


Love in the Police Paw-ffice

by Spumoni_BerryBoney



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Hank didn't already have Sumo in this, Lowkey hints of omegaverse, M/M, No Androids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spumoni_BerryBoney/pseuds/Spumoni_BerryBoney
Summary: Connor, new to the DPD forensics department, has a bizarre run-in before his first night. A large, strange beast attacked him. He takes advantage of his access to the forensics lab to, using the hair he found, find out what it was. If there's a dangerous wolf hybrid, it's definitely an issue that needs to dealing with.The results are in: the fur belongs to his new lieutenant, Hank Anderson. What starts as an investigation to solve the mystery that is Hank Anderson, becomes instead a path to something far better.





	1. Chapter 1

At one in the morning, the dog park was closed. The front office was empty, the gates locked, and there was no real reason to include its location on a nightly jog aside from wishful thinking. This was the last night of Connor's vacation, and staying up all night was becoming easier. The switch from day to night shift was not a pleasant one, but even so Connor stood by his decision to take this new position. The pay was better (rent was also higher in Detroit), and the lab along with the equipment more updated (or so went the claims).

Summer was starting a transition to fall, giving the night air a crispness to it that filled Connor's lungs with each breath. He had taken this same route the last three nights, and only occasionally needed to glance down at the GPS of his watch to verify he hadn't missed any turns. The dog park was his favorite spot to go by, because it was a driver. The current apartment didn't allow dogs. Not that it mattered, because living alone while working twelve hour shifts wasn't exactly ideal for proper caring of dogs.

Perhaps after Connor adjusted to his new sleep schedule, he could volunteer at an animal shelter. Walk the dogs there, instead of torturing himself with the unlit field that with each breeze carried that wet dog smell. The only lights were from street lamps on the sidewalk, and the cars that drive by. Detroit's night traffic was considerably less than a day, but there was enough activity in the city at all times it never really stopped. People were always on the road, or working in shops, watching Connor jog by with their brows raised at his attire. A plain gray shirt, and loose-fitting black pants - not the typical jogging outfit. Normally he wore one of those obnoxious orange and yellow vests with reflectors for safety, but the sidewalks were well-lit and the concrete was raised enough a careening car wasn't a constant concern.

Also, he forgot to grab it when leaving his apartment, and only just now realized.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, tonight’s job was supposed to be swapped with little more than casually investigating the nearby. Four days in a row, and he was already falling into the habit. Feet carrying the route he started going, and Connor didn’t bother resisting. He could just get groceries afterwards, since there was a twenty-four hour mart a block from his apartment. Detroit was kind of nice having the night life the smaller town he moved from lacked.

Attention pulling from a glance at his watch, pleased and unsurprised he was still in the correct direction, the implausible caught Connor’s attention from the corner of his eye. Movement. Shadows just out of reach from the street and car’s lights. Not as noisy as during the day, the night time sounds of Detroit were quieter. Attention now on the brief flickers of movement to his left, Connor’s ears picked up voices that weren’t coming from the shops or radios. Deeper voices, mostly baritones. One or two basses. Words were being exchanged in hushed whispers rising in volume, frustration evident in the words even if they were too quiet to make sense of.

A few guesses came to mind about what was happening in the park. The most likely were some teenagers, hanging out somewhere after dark. Perhaps collecting ammo for a less-than-pleasant prank. Then again, could have been a drug dealing. The dog park was dark and no one was supposed to be inside. A good place for a less than legal exchange without the prying eyes of cops or neighbors. Connor slowed his job, just marginally, and reached into his pocket. Slow and cautious, brown eyes barely peeking out the corners to see if the movement noticed what he was doing. This was not how he planned on meeting the night shift for the first time, calling in an emergency. Yet, that was exactly what was happening.

His thumb didn’t get to press onto the green ‘call’ icon, the phone fumbling but caught with Connor’s palms as he stumbled backwards. Eyes wide, his breath catching as a massive _something_ leapt into his path. Too big to walk around, Connor’s only choice was to stop himself from smacking right into it. Under the streetlights, the blur of shadows was clear and defined. A giant dog, fur gray with streaks of a lighter silver that came with age. The limbs were almost too long, but not in the gangly way Connor was used to seeing with greyhounds or great danes. Almost too thick with muscle, giving the animal a bulk that was bordering on humanoid in the legs. __

_ _The world was slowing down, Connor catching his balance with phone still in hand. Details burned into his mind, questions building a backlog that would keep him up far longer than he wanted to later. Blue eyes, a deep growl rolled from the beast and for a second Connor questioned if the thin clouds wafting across the full moon carried with them thunder. The other voices and shapes faded away, and all he could do was urge himself to react. _A hybrid - it has to be some kind of wolf hybrid_, was the only rationalization that came to mind. The last thoughts he was allowed, before the creature sprung forward and into him. _ _

_ _Connor and his twin, Collin, often fought with finding pants with the right lengths - the two had longer legs. Even so, those same long legs weren’t enough to carry Connor to safety, his back landing onto the concrete and knocking the wind from his lungs. A burning spread across bare skin, a wetness following shortly after. A pained grunt was shared, an ache flaring across Connor’s neck and the back of his skull. The tension in his body was automatic, his neck locking to protect his head from bouncing on the ground. The area lit up, flames spiraling behind the beast and lighting its body into a silhouette. The beast’s front claws curled into Connor’s shoulders, shifting and clutching closer to fingers than the nubby paws of a dog. A smell of burnt hair wafted, dizzying and disorienting._ _

_ _One blink later, the weight of the beast was gone and the night was devoid once more of anyone but Connor. Lying on the ground, his knuckles bleeding with his phone two feet away with a cracked glass protector. With a gasp, Connor shot up. Wild brown eyes scanned the area around him, trying to see the retreating form of the animal somewhere, anywhere. _ _

_ _It was nowhere to be seen. The shadows in the park were gone as well, only phantoms of a moment over too quickly. Taking in a shaky breath, Connor exhaled slowly. Controlled his breathing, controlled what he could after that whirlwind to stop his body from shaking as the adrenaline coursed through him. There was no massive canine. No source from which the flames could have originated. Just the pains from torn skin the asphalt gave him, and the remains of silver and gray fur on his shirt. Staring at the hairs, Connor focused on those. To ensure he knew that, whatever it was, had actually happened. This was not a hallucination from not enough sleep, or stress from moving. _ _

_ _Controlling his breathing, Connor lowered himself carefully as his joints ached from the abuse and the movement. Grabbed his phone and pocketed. Backtracking back home, he kept part of his attention of the fur that was left behind. If there was a wild animal that big running around, someone needed to know. First, for his own curiosity and sanity, Connor needed to know what that was. The beauty of now working in a lab, with access to potentially some of the best equipment to identify DNA… Was that Connor was a few work nights away from having his answer._ _

_ _And he was _going_ to get his answer.  
___ _

***

“Lieutenant Anderson, this is Detective Arkay. His is our new forensics specialist.” It was ten at night, and the captain of the Detroit Police Department had bags too heavy under his eyes to fake patience. A broad-shouldered man, even sitting at his desk Captain Fowler was an imposing figure with a deep voice that demanded attention. He kept his face and head clean-shaven, a contrast to his desk covered in paperwork that sat in skewed piles. The office the three stood in had one solid wall, while the rest was bullet-proof glass that overlooked the bullpen. There were four chairs in front of Captain Fowler’s desk, all of which were empty as Connor stood three feet diagonally from another man that was presumably the lieutenant. A conclusion made by the captain’s address, than how the other gentleman dressed himself.

Somewhere in his early to mid-fifties, hair already growing gray, Lieutenant Anderson had several inches of height on Connor. A fact that would have been much easier to assess by how much, if the man was not slouching slightly with his hands in his pockets while his face remained decisively irritated. While Connor wore dress slacks, an ironed button-up shirt, and a vest to maintain a professional appearance. In comparison,the lieutenant dressed almost as if he walked off the set of a 1980s television series. A peace-sign decorated button-up with two opposing colours on each side, slacks that were bordering on sweatpants, and a heavy brown coat that was out of place in the warm room.

Connor could practically feel his fingers itching to do something about the other man’s appearance, conflicting reasons fighting for prominent reason why. His mother Amanda had taught him the importance of appearance - such casual business attire did not bode well for the type of lieutenant this man was. Dated, messy, and apathetic were not a good look for a detective-based work environment. Connor had always been taught it was easier to excel at one’s role if dressed for it. Conversely, Lieutenant Anderson’s many layers had Connor’s curiosity about the build of the body beneath it. The man was sloppily dressed, but that did little to deter the fact he was quite attractive.

This was a professional work environment, and Connor would maintain that professionalism.

“I don’t fuckin’ care. What do you want, Jeff?” Lieutenant Anderson asked, disregarding niceties altogether to dive straight to the point. His rolled his shoulders, left side of his mouth curling downwards in the start of a frown. Not once did he even look at Connor or regard there was another person in the room. Hands clasped behind his own back, Connor remained thin-lipped and merely observed the two men quietly.

“Captain. I am your _captain_, Hank. Address me as such, because I’m getting real tired of spending half my day deciding if I really want to fill out another report on your insubordination.” Captain Fowler snapped, leaning forward on his desk and watching the lieutenant with eyes that made lesser men squirm. For his part, Lieutenant Anderson averted his gaze to watching the bullpen. “I need your ass to be _nice_ for thirty damn minutes, show this nice kid around the damn place, and then do. Your. Fucking. Job.”

Listening to the two go back and forth from there, Connor gathered many things. One, Captain Fowler would make a terrible motivational speaker. Two, the current lieutenant was going to be a handful. Connor had heard a few things about the man, from his twin. Collin’s boyfriend was on the force as a detective, and had relayed the warning that the lieutenant was ‘cranky.’ The few times that Connor had met Collin’s boyfriend, Gavin, he had not concluded the man to be particularly gifted with vocabulary. There was very little filter between Gavin’s brain and his mouth, which was why the detective was not invited back to Amanda’s house after that first dinner. Regardless, ‘obstinate' would have been a much more fitting term for the lieutenant at that moment.

Obstinate and evasive, especially where Connor was concerned. All the chance the lieutenant even gave Connor, was a pause and a glance when he first walked in. After that, it was as if the lieutenant could not sleep at night unless he made certain Connor was aware the Lieutenant Anderson did not want to acknowledge his existence. Content with silently observing, because the way the two exchanged heated words Connor felt safe in concluding this was normal for the two men. After ten minutes of the show, he was beginning to feel antsy to just get to the lab. There were strange animal hairs that needed to be tested, and this was wasting everyone’s time.

“Fucking FINE. For Chist’s sake, Fowler.” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, finally relenting to his boss with furrowed brows that seemed to be pulled downwards by his lips. “I’ll babysit your new recruit _this time_. Last I fucking checked my _job_ was investigate crimes, not play host.” The man continued, taking heavy steps towards the door without care as to whether his charge was following or not.

“You’re the damn lieutenant, Anderson. Your job is to take care of your team, Dumbass. New recruit on your team.” Captain Fowler pressed, leaning back as he shook his head. Two pairs of brown eyes watched the lieutenant open the door. Captain Fowler motioned at Connor to follow the other. “Your turn.” He said, nodding in exasperation as the last of his patience was gone. Connor opened his mouth, words falling to his tongue to point out more towards the lieutenant than their captain that in the time it took for them to argue, Connor could have shown himself around. Instead, Connor closed his lips as Captain Fowler sent him a searing gaze, somehow knowing the smartass comment teetering on being spoken. Giving a stiff nod of his own back to the captain, Connor turned his feet towards the door and began the process of catching up to Anderson.

“Bullpen.” The lieutenant announced, words terse as they fell from his mouth. He made a wide motion with his right arm, but Connor already knew the room and its purpose long before the other said anything. For the moment, he continued to hold his tongue. Most of the tour went this way, which made it mercifully short. The two ended at the lab, in which Connor could see his nameplate already settled on his desk, tucked away in the corner. Away from distractions and prying eyes, ideal for how he enjoyed working and convenient for his personal project. “This is your personal hell pit. Don’t fuck up evidence, and you’ll do fine here or whatever.” It was the closest thing to something nice the lieutenant had said the entire evening.

“I don’t fuck up, Lieutenant. I understand I am new and have not earned your trust, but it is my sincere hope you in time will be able to rest easy knowing your hardwork will never be mislabeled or misplaced. By me, at the very least.” Connor maintained an even tone, quirked his lips in a slight smile. Kept his back straight, and tried to be cautious in his word choice. Having the lieutenant breathing down his back, at least in this sort of situation, would make work unnecessarily difficult. Though if it happened to be in a _different_ way… The Lieutenant’s mouth twitched, a half-smile flickering through before falling down.

“Cute. They offer brown-nosing classes in those overpriced colleges now.” The lieutenant wavered, and for a second Connor thought the man was going to lean in, as if some generic scary boss to whisper ominously in his ear in an attempt to intimidate the newbie. A shiver, not unpleasant, traveled up Connor’s spine but the other stopped himself. “Been doing this too damn long to trust pretty words, fucking prove it.” Lieutenant Anderson said, rolling his shoulders before leaving Connor standing in the lab. Alone.

Walking to his desk, Connor began investigating to see what was already available to him, and to decide how personable he wanted to make it. Most of his nights were going to be spent in there. This space wasn’t going to be a home away from home, but a few items to make it feel more like his area than just some empty desk he used would be nice. Connor decided tomorrow he would bring in the spiral dog calendar he had, two of the three-dimensional puzzles he had finished, and a few items to fidget with when doing more mundane tasks. By this time the other forensics member had returned from the restroom, and got Connor more acquainted with the work area.

When first being on-boarded over the phone with the recruiter, Connor had been told his first week would be more familiarization with the workplace and some basic training. That sounded unlikely then, and as his co-worker began apologizing and explaining the workload was too big, and if Connor could just maybe try to help a little… The fact that the training would be bypassed, put on a backburner until everyone forgot about it, was the reality he had expected. The night went by quickly, and when morning arrived Connor was glad he worked on trying to rearrange his sleeping schedule.

Much of the day he slept away, waking early enough to do some shopping and cleaning before leaving for work. The animal hair was inside his wallet, tucked into his pocket for safe-keeping. When going in, Connor noted with detached interest that the lieutenant turned his back to him, not bothering with subtlety in signaling to the new recruit to leave him be. Taking his eyes away from the lieutenant’s back, there was a strange familiarity about the man’s hair that lingered with Connor as he continued his trek to the lab. Something about how the silver and grays mingled. He combed through his mental memory of faces, wondering who that salt mix reminded him of. A few came close, but none matched enough to explain that pull at the base of his skull.

Connor had just enough time to set up his calendar, but had left the other items at home. After sleeping on it, the puzzles seemed a bit much, and if his workload was going to be like last night there wouldn’t be enough downtime to justify the small distractions to play with. At least tonight Connor had some opportunity to begin running the hairs. His co-worker, a woman that never introduced herself nor wore her nametag, was too busy checking the evidence thrice over. Everywhere she went, she carried a notebook to scribble down what she had finished or started, and throughout the night her alarm would go off to remind her to follow-up on this or that. The chaotic methods to her madness were unsettling, but as long as they didn’t affect Connor’s results he could adjust to it.

Certainly not add to it.

At the old precinct, a few of his co-workers made snide remarks behind his back that Connor was actually a robot and not a person. His work persona was molded for his job, and his straight-laced attitude didn’t settle well with some of the more relaxed force members.With the low staffing and extra work, Connor was relieved they would be too busy for those sorts of remarks. Unless he ran into Gavin, which thankfully hadn’t happened yet. Connor doubted the detective was avoiding him, that wasn’t the sort of person Gavin was. The two got along well enough considering. Sometimes it threw Gavin off how similar Collin and Connor were in appearance, but that aside he respected the brothers were close.

Gavin was a decent detective, despite the teasing he got from Collin. If he had no business in the lab, he probably kept away to minimize distractions. Watching his co-worker, Connor wouldn’t fault him for that.

Back to the work at hand, Connor’s fingers itched to try out the new equipment. He read about it, how results could be returned in as quickly as four hours. But the animal hair was for a personal curiosity and concern, and he couldn’t justify it. No, Connor would work on it between everything else the next few days.

The next few days became a week, Connor assigned the evidence for all the small time cases until he earned that trust. A trust he would try to break a bit faster with periodic niceties. Emerging from the lab for his lunch, grabbing coffee and doughnuts for the other nightshifters. On occasion he caught Gavin, of whom was the one to slip Connor the knowledge that Hank fell that easily into the detective archetype: he could be a glutton for doughnuts. Each dozen Connor brought in was a variety, and he was narrowing down which ones were Hank’s favourites.

Each time Hank watched him with suspicious eyes, but never refused the free treats.

Sitting at his office, coffee cup half-empty, Connor was recording data from his most recent find. A man had been arrested after attacking a couple yesterday with a golf club, screaming a garbled mess. The concoction of drugs he had taken was a process to unravel, and between tests Connor was comparing notes to a few other suspects with similar arrests. To check if there was a trend, or if there was anything left of the drugs in the blood samples to see if the origin was the same.

No such luck. Releasing a sigh, Connor considered taking his break early that night. Simple crimes like these were draining, as they required less thought but more diligence. Mistakes were too easily made in repetitive work, much like driving down a straight road at night and feeling highway hypnosis creeping along. A quiet beep from his watch. Giving his eyes a break from the screens, Connor looked to see what Collin texted him this time. Instead, it was a reminder. _Results should be ready_. Glancing towards his co-worker, of whom was rummaging through her notes trying to find something, and then with a roll of his shoulders minimized the window he had been working on. Pulling up the database search he started, Connor felt his heart start to hammer. This was what got him into forensics. Walking into an empty hallway, blindly trying to find one’s way through it. Catching feet on stairs, trying to not fall or get lost. Searching the walls, knowing there had to be a light source.

Finding one, and flipping the switch.

Having science at his fingertips, the feel of technology working with him to find those answers. The delicate treatment of evidence, the rigid system in place to protect the integrity of the investigation. The window maximized. The breakdown of the hair, and what it was showing.

And it didn’t make sense. The wolf part of the results were unsurprising (timber wolf, specifically). There was an _Other_ in there, the system not finding exact matches (scientists were always discovering new species and this was a strange animal). These were the type of results Connor was expecting, was ready to take comfort in knowing he didn’t hallucinate the strange, large beast. The weird part was that such a large part was human DNA. Not canine. Not vulpine or even hyaenidae. Human.

Licking his lips, brows lowering slightly, Connor leaned in closely. Raising his left hand, rested his chin while his head slowly tilted to the left thoughtfully. _There could have been human hair mixed in_, he reasoned to himself as he began to run the DNA through the criminal database. Not that human hair getting caught with loose strands of dog fur resulted in mixed DNA. No results from the criminal database. Connor needed to get back to work. He really shouldn’t have been even using the lab for this.

Head leaning a few centimeters more, brown eyes slid to their corners to see if the other technician was still occupied. Her attention went from her notes to typing something, the loud clacking of keys a sound Connor heard so often his mind tended to mute it out. Nice computers that ran much more quickly, but the keyboards were still cheap and loud. Returning his eyes back to his screen, sucking in a breath and Connor expanded the search. As it ran in the background, he maximized the other screen and resumed his work. The suspense was building, making Connor feel nostalgic for the days when he and Collin would read mystery novels together as children.

This wasn’t a case waiting to be cracked, nothing major. Connor knew on a conscious level his interest was piqued simply due to how bizarre this was. There had to be a logical explanation, and he was eager to put his hands on it. There was a slight lag to what he typed while the system scoured the larger database, and Connor took some relief in knowing that this type of search wasn’t something that was regularly tracked. When typed words appeared just as quickly as when buttons were pressed, he knew the answer was there. Checked one last time his co-worker was paying him no mind, her concerns for the newbie put at ease by day two because he always knew exactly where everything was.

Connor had his result. The logic he was reaching for fell further away, the growing distance fueling that curiosity, that need for answers.

_Hank Anderson, aged 53. 6’2”, birthday September 6, 1985. Employed - Detroit City Police Department._

The lieutenant. The lieutenant was the human portion of the DNA.

Assumptions sprung to mind, all of which Connor disregarded. He was meticulous in his handling of any form of evidence, even ones for personal interests. The first thought was that during that initial meeting, somehow some of Hank’s hair got into the sealed bag of the animal fur. That was also in Connor’s wallet, of which never left the man’s pocket. The next was that Hank’s hair was just casually lying around Connor’s workstation, which made even less sense. To Connor’s awareness, Hank never approached the area. Even if he had, Connor kept it clean and orderly. Gray hair on a dark blue counter was a stark contrast, easily visible.

Closing out the window, saving nothing, Connor went back to his actual job as his mind actively multi-tasked. Brown eyes glanced over at his coffee, and slowly lidded. A plan began to form.

Connor _would_ have his answers. There would be no escape for Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

***

“I’m starting to think you’re only doing this because Collin recruited you to get me a bigger ass.” Gavin commented, his coffee already in his hand and doughnuts on a plate. A plain doughnut with mocha glazing on top were his favourites, and provided a good cover for why Connor continued to get the treats for everyone.

“Just keep doing squats and lunges, and he’ll be happy Gavvy-Cakes.” Connor answered easily, his words garnering a frown from the detective.

“Don’t call me Gavvy-Cakes, Con-Faun.” Gavin snapped, holding his two doughnuts close before hurrying to get away lest Connor came up with any other annoying pet names. A few of the officers snickered, discussing amidst each other if they should use the alleged nickname. They heard it from Connor, who they knew was the brother of Gavin’s boyfriend. Surely Connor would know best what pet names the two shared.

There were no pet names. The only time pet names were exchanged were when Collin and Gavin were teetering close between an argument that would either escalate into a fight or tearing each other’s clothes off. The terrible nicknames were simply the way in which Connor and Gavin interacted, a sort of rivalry between the two spawned from how similar their interests were at times. It was also amusing seeing the look of disgust on Gavin’s visage when things like ‘Gavvy-Cakes’ came out of a mouth too similar to the one he kissed.

“Where’s the lieutenant?” Connor inquired, peering around the bullpen and masking his curiosity with a detached interest. The officers in the room shrugged, neither of them the lieutenant’s keeper. They were simply there for free doughnuts, and that was the extent of their presence in the kitchen. Accepting that Hank would succeed in evading him that day, Connor poured himself a pot of coffee. Added some cream to it, because sometimes it was nice to treat oneself. Leaning against the counter, sipping on his drink, Connor exchanged some pleasantries with the other two. Talked about how he was settling in, the differences between a big city lab and the smaller one that Connor transferred from.

He dared to pry, asking the other two what got them into the police line of work. Neither of the two fell into it for exceptional reasons. One had been recruited, and ended up doing it so long she didn’t want to try anything different only to start back at the beginning. The other had been in the military, and a normal civilian job was near impossible for him to adjust to. When Connor gave his answer to his own question, the two laughed.

“You sound like some generic CSI: Detroit character.” Hank’s deep voice commented, and to Connor’s credit despite his surprise he did not drop his coffee. There was a slight jolt to his body, but he held the mug securely and nothing spilled.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Hank.” Connor greeted, barely succeeding at not frowning in annoyance at the other man. The way Hank was grinning, his lips twitching upwards because he was attempting to hide it, he succeeded in startling his target.

“Spoiling the team again, I see.” Hank observed, nodding towards the table with plats of confectionary treats. The ex-military officer pulled the box of doughnuts closer to himself, guarding them against Hank’s peckish fingers. “You trying to take my job?” He asked, nudging past Connor in order to refill his mug. The brief contact was electric, and the brunet immediately knew he needed to avoid further physical contact with his boss.

That sort of reaction distracted from investigations, clouded judgements. The mystery of Hank was still there, hanging above him in that taunting lopsided grin of Hank’s.

“More interested in solving your cases than having your job.” Connor pointed out, rotating his mug in a lazy effort to mix the cream and coffee once more as the components separated as it cooled. “You already heard me say I like pinpointing the details, the little things easier to miss and watch it all fall into place. Putting normal puzzles together doesn’t pay the bills, unless it involves finding out who stole this or who stabbed that.” He elaborated on what he originally said, trying to keep the conversation casual. Kept his focus on his drink, to ignore Hank watching him. Reading him.

“My job is my cases.” Hank pointed out, rolling his eyes. With a grunt, he let his body fall against the counter, as well. Going from trying to avoid Connor, to suddenly wanting to be close to him. The man was up to something. _It’s fine, he’s bluffing. Play along, keep one foot ahead of him, and it’ll all come together_, Connor directed himself. Took a sip of his coffee, ignored the pull of exhaustion that hit each night at three in the morning.

The banter continued, the other two officers sometimes adding in their own opinions. Eventually they left, and there was a short lull of just Connor and Hank. The lieutenant's lips were pursed together, the only sounds that of the fridge humming in the background.

Someone walked by the breakroom, but didn’t come inside. Blue eyes snapped up, watched. Waited. Realizing the two would continue to be alone, Hank finally spoke. “You really want to me my dog, huh?” He asked.

“When?” Connor reacted immediately, head snapping up from his mug to stare into Hank’s eyes determined, commanding. Hank’s lower jaw fell, taken aback by the urgency of Connor’s response to his otherwise throwaway comment. Apparently that was a playful jab that backfired tremendously.

“Uh… Wednesday?” Hank spoke without thinking, his own eyes widening in horror as he extended an offer he knew he should have never put on the table. Phone in hand, already typing in Hank’s information, the brunet watched him expectantly. “Shit, remind me that puppers are no joke for you.” Already resigned to his fate, Hank provided Connor with everything he needed. His personal phone number, his address. More than he gave to most of his subordinates.

Connor was ready to meet this dog… And with luck, find any secrets that lurked within Hank’s home.

***

“Lieutenant Anderson, do you own a dog?” Connor inquired, his posture relaxed as his eyes stared down at his phone. Thumb scrolling through his email, gently pressing and deleting to keep his inbox under control. Standing at the table, the slouched shoulders of the older man tensed upwards only to fall once more. A large hand grabbed a doughnut, a plain and standard glazed. Hank’s eyes were on the box of half-eaten baked goods, refusing to look at the other as per his usual. A silence hung between the two, the only ones inside the breakroom. There must have been no cases calling the lieutenant away to investigate, and the man took a leisurely bite out of the doughnut.

“Why? Tryna find a home for one?” The lieutenant finally asked at length, after half of his doughnut had been consumed. His blue eyes stayed on his snack, a hum coming from him between bites.

“No. I simply noticed some gray dog hairs on your clothes.” Connor explained easily. The fur was a fact, a detail that Connor had noticed when observing the lieutenant more closely. At that, Lieutenant Anderson paused in the middle of chewing. “I like dogs.” Connor continued, pondering if when he said that it was intended more as a flirtation or segway into what he was going to say. “Can’t have any at my apartment. No pets. I know the hours during an investigation can be pretty demanding, Lieutenant. If you ever need a dogsitter…” He trailed. Waiting for the lieutenant to make his decision as to whether he would lie or be up front.

There was something strange about the lieutenant. About the way he seemed to avoid Connor, without ever having a reason to do so. If there was someone in the bullpen Lieutenant Anderson didn’t want to deal with, he typically told them as much. Yet, if Connor came near it was as if the lieutenant forgot how to brassly tell someone to fuck off. The older man’s attention went to something else, and he refused to meet brown eyes with his own blue ones. The actions were subtle, and if Connor wasn’t watching the lieutenant as closely as he was, probably would have thought nothing of it.

Unfortunately for Lieutenant Anderson, Connor was watching. With great diligence, in fact.

The offer continued to hang in the air, Lieutenant Anderson feigning unable to speak with the rest of his doughnut shoved into his mouth. Connor had seen him talk with his mouth full, and wasn’t buying the lie. Instead of calling the other out on it, he chose to ask, “What’s your dog’s name?”

“You know,” Lieutenant Anderson swallowed the last of his bite, picking up a cup of coffee that was probably long cold. “I was under the impression forensics had a lot of shit to sort through?” He prompted, bringing the cup to his lips.

“Lieutenant, coffee’s cold.” Connor said, tone polite and his head cocked to the side slightly. The warning came too late, and the sip the lieutenant took was quickly spat back up into the cup. “Additionally, I am new to the area. I opted to utilize my break to get to know my colleagues better. It was a friendly offer, you don’t have to accept it.” Keeping his words casual was key, but he also couldn’t change his manner of speech too much. That came across as trying too hard, and could be taken any number of ways. Most of which were not how Connor intended any of it.

“Have you ever considered I don’t have a dog, and I dogsit?” Lieutenant Anderson asked. Cup in hand, he walked over to the sink to dump out its contents. Turned on the faucet, and began rinsing it out.

“Unless you have been dog-sitting since I’ve started working here, that seems highly unlikely.” Connor would allow the lieutenant the out if he wanted it. Kept a smile in place, the conversation friendly and light on the surface. The defensive way that the lieutenant was handling was what made it all so strange. The easiest explanation was that something happened with the DNA testing (even though Connor ran the test three times, just in case). That the lieutenant disliked newbies prying into his life, and really was just a grumpy fifty-year old man set in his ways. Dropping this would have been effortless.

Doing that, however, would have provided no real answers. And while Connor worked as a support role in forensics, he enjoyed the rush of an actual investigation.

“You checking out everyone here that has a dog? Or am I just a special old bastard?” Lieutenant Anderson inquired, the dance around the subject carrying on. The mug was rinsed out and then dried off. The coffee maker was half-full before the lieutenant grabbed the handle, and by the time he finished pouring was almost empty. Raising up the cup and tilting it slightly, Lieutenant Anderson sighed as he breathed in the scent of two-hour old, but still hot, coffee.

“And if it’s both?” Connor inquired, one brow quirking upwards ever so slightly. That might have teetered too closely into flirting. Lieutenant Anderson paused before sipping on his coffee, thick brows furrowing down and for the first time in days the man actually looked at Connor. The sort of gaze a cop would watch someone with when trying to decide if they should let a speeder get off with a warning or a ticket. Connor maintained eye contact with him, brown eyes curious what the other was deciding to make of his words. Squinting blue eyes at Connor, the lieutenant clucked his tongue before drinking some of the coffee. Neither looked away.

“You bother Gavin this much about his ‘dog’?” Lieutenant Anderson asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched Connor. In the year that Gavin and Collin have been dating, there had been no mention of a dog. If Gavin owned a dog, the second that Collin mentioned one there would have been a Connor visiting far more frequently. While talking to Lieutenant Anderson under the premise of meeting the dog he may or may not have owned, Connor would have been browsing pictures of Gavin’s dog instead of his emails during this conversation.

The way Lieutenant Anderson said it though, there was a firmness to it. And the odd emphasis on dog was out of place, too. The combination was enough to make Connor momentarily wonder how he had never noticed a dog when he visited Gavin and his brother. Connor trusted his memory, and simply filed the lieutenant’s odd comment away to pester the brother and his boyfriend about later. With a slight smile of his own Connor answered, “Smaller breeds are cute, yes, but if I preferred carrying animals... I’d be pestering you about a cat now wouldn’t I, Lieutenant Anderson?” He would roll with the lieutenant’s bluff. There was no dog, but there was certainly something more.

“Hank.” Lieutenant Anderson had a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth, either amused by the fact Connor was rolling with this story with such ease or something else entirely. “No one here calling me fucking lieutenant except newbies. Gavin told me you’re stubborn. If you’re gonna stick around, just Hank is fine.” With another sip of his coffee, the lieutenant started walking towards the exit from the breakroom to the bullpen. Watching where he was going, Hank continued to observe Connor from the corner of his eyes.

“Very well, Just Hank.” Connor smiled pleasantly, slipping in the Dad Joke with no hint of irony to him while he said it. Hank paused in his walk, rolled his eyes, and then continued on his way. Once he was gone, Connor set a reminder on his phone to walk by Gavin’s desk once the detective was out.

Just in case there was some strange fur he could collect, and then inspect.


	2. Chapter 2

“All right. Here he is… Sumo.” Hank announced, his smile tense and refusing to reach his eyes. Opening the door to his home, Connor peered in to try and get a glimpse of the other’s home before whatever dog was in attempted to wiggle out of the door. A couch with clothes thrown onto it carelessly, old cases of take-out knocked over and investigated by the dog in question.... And then a large, brown canine was there blocking the view. Hank was already there, hands stopping the large dog from barreling out of the door. “We, uh, don’t get many guests so he’s not well-trained on guest manners.” The lieutenant grunted, one hand grasping the animal’s collar while the other was in front of Sumo’s chest holding it in place. 

Judging by size, the dog was fully grown. Had white on it, in addition to the browns and blacks. The animal was slobbering heavily, its pants becoming more fervent the harder it tried to get past Hank and to the new person. There were hints in its fur of silver, especially around its muzzle. Apparently Hank adopted himself an older animal. A Saint Bernard, in particular. Connor had to marvel at the level of dedication this man was going to.

“How old is he?” Connor inquired, taking hesitant steps forward. Seeing the approach, the dog wriggled more against Hank’s efforts to restrain him.

“He’s - shit - hang on!” Hank grunted, shifting his hand to move from the dog’s chest to closer to where legs met body in order to lift and push the animal back into the house. With a huff, Hank turned to stare at Connor, raising a hand and pointing it at the other. “Don’t approach him when I’m trying to get him under control, you’re encouraging him.” The man chastised. 

“Right, right, I apologize.” Connor nodded, taking a few steps back in order to cross his arms. “He still young? Maybe one or two?” He asked, tilting his head towards the house. Knowing full well that the dog was much older than that, but maintaining an innocuous expression. Even under Hank’s more scrutinizing gaze, gray brows lowering until half of those blue eyes were obscured by them. The man opened his mouth, lower jaw hanging open as he tried to decide which sentence sprung to mind that he wanted to say the most. 

“No. He’s like, fucking seven or something.” Hank grumbled, at length settling on answering the question instead of continuing to dodge it. There was whining from the other side of the door, followed by the sounds of nails scratching at wood. A minute passed, the two waiting quietly to see if Sumo’s efforts to be let out would subside.

Sumo did not give up. He knew people were outside, and he so badly wanted to be with people. 

“Seven… Or something.” Connor echoed at length, the first to break the silence while his lips twitched upwards in amusement. “I figured you’d be the sort to know your dog’s birthday. Throw him parties.” He was speaking more in jest, because Connor knew this was all a lie. That Sumo was recently adopted, because Hank wasn’t the sort to neglect any sort of life. Human or dog or cat. The items left strewn about for the dog to get into, particularly human food, was not something a diligent person like Hank would do. Sumo’s weight appeared healthy, and if Hank was the sort to leave his food everywhere for the dog to clean up after him that wouldn’t be the case. Sumo would be a much heftier dog.

Playfully teasing, maintaining their dance until it was Hank who caved, Connor expected another lie. Perhaps some sort of rebuttal to once more avoid giving an answer. Instead Hank’s suspicious gaze melted away, his eyes widening. Raising his hand to cover his mouth, the man looked away to stare at the door. Listened to the whines. The raised shoulders relaxing, the guarded posture abandoned to give the door its own consideration.

“He should get a birthday.” Hank murmured, his tone apologetic and thoughtful. Connor’s smile faded, the retort he was expecting turned out to be the older man realizing something very important. Not needing anything more than that, Connor knew immediately what the next step was going to be. It was not teasing Hank, trying to coax the truth from the other even as the man dug himself deeper into the lie he spun. There was a dog, of whom was just adopted… That may have never had a birthday party.

Connor never had a dog. Amanda trusted both of her sons had the responsibility needed to care for one, but she wanted them to focus on school. On their talents. On their futures, and how to be successful. To build towards the day both could be independent, and to have security in a world with so little of it. Online, he would sometimes see cute photos of parties being thrown for animals. The animals were probably well-trained, and naturally could be coaxed into that Perfect Pose for the picture.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was this opportunity before him. “Let’s throw him a birthday party.” Connor said,his mind already racing with all of the ideas he wanted to do. Thinking of all those recipes for dog treats that were saved between him and Collin. The videos that Connor watched those nights he was trying to switch to a more nocturnal sleep schedule. 

“What?” Hank asked, snapping his attention away from the whining behind the closed door to stare at the younger man. 

“Sumo. Sumo, right? Right. Let’s throw him a wel-... Birthday party.” At Connor’s slip of the tongue, Hank raised a brow. Chuckled briefly at the other. Rolled his shoulders into a shrug, and then slipped his hands into his pockets. 

“Fine. Why the fuck not?” Hank laughed again, shaking his head. 

“Not today, by the time everything is together it’ll be too late. Can’t invite anyone to it, either. Too late minute.” Connor started out by speaking loudly, clearly. Phone raised to look at it, eyes and fingers going through his calender the sound of his voice tapered off into more quiet mumbles. Leaning forward, Hank frowned as he strained to hear what was being said.

“...Invite anyone to it?” Hank repeated, his frown deepening. With a shake of his head, the man held up both of his hands. “Whoa, back up, I didn’t agree to th-”

“Collin and I have an agreement, it’s mandatory.” Connor interrupted him. “And I can’t invite Collin, and but not Gavin. Besides, Sumo will need gifts.” The momentum of his excitement was carrying him, Connor not missing a beat. “This Friday looks good. Only myself and Gavin are working that night. Collin is off, and I do believe you are scheduled off, as well?” The brunet asked, finally pulling his eyes away from his phone to see what response he was getting.

All the reaction Hank could manage was to stare at Connor with a mixture of awe and apprehension. “You already have an entire party planned, I’ll bet. Don’t even need to be a damn detective.” Hank asked, disbelief in his voice.

“I have plans that would make the experience fun for Sumo, yes.” Connor admitted, slowly nodding his head. Phone still in hand, the brunet turned his head to the side just slightly. “Does this mean Friday will work?” 

“...Yeah, I guess?” Hank sighed, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine. You plan the party. You do the prep work. Help me clean the house or some shit, since apparently I’m having guests over.” He grumbled, and turned back to the door. 

“That’s fair, since we are using your house.” Connor agreed, lifting a foot to approach the door. He quickly placed it back down. “Do you want to try and settle him down before I go to the door?” He inquired, recalling Hank’s earlier request that the excitable animal not be further encouraged. 

Stopping mid-turn of the doorknob, Hank sighed. “This one time, I won’t care. Come on in.” His hands moved quickly, grabbing Sumo before the dog could bolt outside to jump onto Connor in greeting. The large dog’s tail was wagging, an audible thump as it smacked into the door that opened inwards. 

Stepping into the house, the muscles in Connor’s body tensed. His shoulders rose, and his breath cut off sharply as nostrils flared in subconscious disapproval. The state of the home destroyed any realistic suspension of disbelief that the younger man could feign that Hank always had a dog. There were two toys, both of which aside from gratuitous slobber were still too new to be ‘favourites.’ The home was a neglected mess. Empty tupperwares and take out boxes littered the living room table along with the floor. A quick glance towards the kitchen, of which had an open connection to the front room revealed even more of these same items on that table. Shirts, pants, and boxers were left wherever Hank had decided to hop out of them. There were claw marks on the couch, of which was old and dilapidated.

The place was a mess. Connor couldn’t fathom living in this sort of environment. Could instead only wonder at how many bugs made Hank’s kitchen their safe haven at the peak of summer. Or even around the year, with the home’s heater providing a constant warmth to be rid of the usual need to hibernate in colder months. “Told you. Not much company.” Hank admitted, his face tightening into a cringe as he watched Connor’s immediately reaction. 

“Right.” Connor agreed, finding no purpose in disputing that. Letting out a breath, brown eyes met with blue ones. “Where’s your cleaning supplies?”

** 

When Friday arrived, Connor’s back was still sore from deep cleaning Hank’s home. A clean that was followed shortly by walking Sumo together. The two had gone later in the evening, when the sidewalks had cooled enough to not burn the dog’s paw pads. Connor knew his limits, knew that the walk would be that extra bit that, while it would not break him, would certainly add on an excess of exhaustion… He did not regret the choice. The walk was a strangely opportune time for the two to get to know each other. Mostly from quiet observation, and some conversation. Even if Hank only recently got a dog, the man did his research before adopting one.

Connor wanted to believe he was the influence behind this. That Hank, to hide whatever bizarre secret he had, learned more about dogs as pets. Fell in love with them, just as much as Connor did. Finally saw the light. Had to get one, and the rest would be history. During the walk, Hank had some treats in his pocket. Used every opportunity to reinforce positive behaviors, and to guide Sumo from ones that could get the dog in trouble. The Saint Bernard had not been well-trained by his prior owner, but seemed eager and ready to be challenged by a human willing to spend the time with him. 

The two humans chatted about innocuous subjects. Initially about Connor’s plans for Sumo’s party. Progressively, what started the interest in canines. In turn, Connor asked about Hank’s record player surrounded by jazz labels. Inquiring after the emptiness of the house, along with the pictures of a young boy that was absent, were too intrusive. Another day, perhaps, after Connor solved the mystery of the DNA test first. A mystery furthered by more signs of the silver fur in the home, left in the fabrics of the furniture and the floors as if they would magically blend into Sumo’s whites. The Saint Bernard’s fur was much softer than the coarser strands that Connor found that first night.

In the kitchen, Connor was removing the seeds from the watermelons. There was a recipe he found online about “pupcicles,” and dogs seemed to universally love watermelon. The combination seemed perfect. It was warm outside, and it was a treat that everyone could enjoy. Collin agreed on the plan, and even helped cover the cost. There was a small table set up in the living room, with two wrapped gifts sitting on it. Hank was in the room, murmuring to himself about how he felt, “like a fuckin’ idiot,” and that this was, “excessively silly,” but through his quiet complaints he would glance at Sumo with a smile. 

It was the most Connor had seen the man smile, and that made the expression contagious. “What’re you grinning for?” Hank asked, catching one of those very smiles on the brunet’s face.

“Thinking how much fun it might be, if next year he had some playmates to come over.” Connor answered smoothly, his eyes inspecting the watermelon slice. Clean of seeds, he placed it into the increasingly full bowl. Some pieces would go into the blender, while others would make for snacks. 

“You’re going to steal my dog, aren’t you?” Hank asked, stepping back from the glittery dollar store sign that proclaimed, ‘Happy Birthday.’ Patting his leg, Hank called the dog’s name. Sumo’s ears perked, large chocolate eyes that had been begging Connor to share the treats the second the man walked into the house finally looking away. Hank repeated the name, and Sumo eagerly trotted out of the kitchen over to the older man. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t. No pets at the apartment, remember?” Connor said, lips still quirked upwards as he finished the last of the watermelon slices.

“A _lease_ is what stands between you and a petty theft charge, not a good conscience?” Hank asked while laughing. Pulling out a bandana, Hank attached it to Sumo’s collar. Grinning, he scratched behind the dog’s ears and told the animal what a good boy he was. The bandana had three generic dogs on it, running around a large cake. ‘Birthday Boy,’ was in sky blues, just barely visible beneath all the brown hairs that protruded from beneath Sumo’s collar. 

“After seeing your house, I would be doing it because of a good conscience.” Connor retorted with ease, and effectively silencing Hank’s utterance of, ‘ouch,’ by turning on the blender. Checking the concoction in, Connor was pleased to see the contents were liquified. Picking it up, he poured it into a tray with slots in the shapes of paws and bones. Originally he had planned on being more casual with this idea, not wanting to be too ‘extra’ and scaring Hank away.

But Collin insisted. Even showed up that morning with the dog-themed ice tray, an ominously proud grin on his face when he handed it to his twin. “Trust me. It’s perfect, and won’t be an issue.” Seeing the shapes when he came into the kitchen, Hank frowned at it.

“...So like. When you said you already had plans, you literally had the supplies at the ready, too? Just in case?” Hank asked, incredulous as his eyes went over the bags that Connor had brought with him. Blue eyes turning an almost offended shade at the ice cube tray, in particular.

“Collin helped.” Connor shrugged as he spoke, using kitchen towel to wipe off the excess liquid. Carrying it to the freezer, he slid it into a spot he had originally cleared the other day and cleared once more that morning. “He bought this, and the handbrush glove. Also, Collin said you’d like it. You never mentioned having the pleasure of meeting my brother, before.” Connor wasn’t sure what kind of meeting his twin and Hank had in the past. But Gavin was likely involved in some way, and if Gavin was involved things typically worked out one of two ways. 

“Hard to work with Gavin and _not_ meet Collin.” Hank grumbled, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion at the ice tray. Though he didn’t say it, probably out obligatory social courtesy, Hank’s expression said a nonverbal, ‘asshole.’ 

“Hard to be related to Collin, and not meet Gavin.” Connor said, not sure how else to respond. That didn’t sound like the most favorable interaction between his twin and Hank, but Hank wasn’t adamant about Collin not joining. Or maybe he wants you around that bad, the unprompted thought made its way into Connor’s head. Blinking at it, he took in a deep breath and then released the air and thought out of his way. More likely he’s lonely, and wants company, came the swift reasoning. Not daring to humor the idea, Connor cleaned up the counter and washed out the blender. 

The party wasn’t expected to be long, just as the set-up was going to be quick. The cubes would take roughly six hours to freeze, which was why Connor went straight to Hank’s house after work. He got off at six in the morning, and already had permission to grab a quick power nap at the other’s house before the party got started. Gavin and Collin were going to be there around two in the afternoon, mostly so Gavin could also grab a doze. The level of amiability that Hank showed for Connor’s demands made it difficult to keep thoughts about why the lieutenant did so from intruding loudly. Especially more hopeful ones with romantic undertones to them. 

Still in his nicer dress clothes from work, Connor had brought with him a light blue polo shirt and his lone pair of jeans. Sumo’s party included a small kiddie pool for the dog to play in, and the humans to stick their feet into to keep cool. The pool was shaped like an elephant with a trunk that squirted water out if connected with a hose. There would be so be some tug-of-war, some practice to try and get Sumo the practice of playing fetch. The group would get sweaty, and showing up to work wearing sweaty clothes didn’t match the “professional attire” standard that Amanda raised him under. 

“Gavin any fun at family gatherings?” Hank inquired, watching Connor’s movements and hands arranging and cleaning as he went. The man had his hands in his pockets, but there was an uncertainty to the shifting of his feet. As if, despite this being his own home, Hank wasn’t sure where to put himself or do. Or perhaps he was simply holding himself from doing what he usually did, in consideration of his guest. The one that opted to just take over Hank’s home and party planning for his dog.

Pausing in putting the more interactive toys on top of the fridge, away from Sumo’s line of sight, Connor mulled over the best way to answer. Whether or not he should mention that Gavin wasn’t invited back over for family dinners. If he should say that while the twins’ mother and Gavin clashed personality-wise, the two respected the other. Remembering that dinner, Connor laughed as he shrugged his shoulders. “From my perspective, he certainly made it interesting. Can’t speak for everyone else’s.” He settled on a more neutral answer. 

“Yeah, I don’t always get what your brother sees in that dumbass.” Hank said, and blew out a breath. “Connor… Mind telling me your plans? It’s almost eight, and part of my job is not letting my people exhaust themselves. I can do whatever’s left, you get some sleep. There’s already clean sheets for you on the bed.” 

“You worked last night, as well.” Connor countered, unwilling to stop what he was doing. The work was almost complete, there was no sense in stopping a project that would wrap up in five minutes. 

“And unlike you, I don’t work tonight. I’ve had to work twenty-hour shifts before, this is nothing for me.” Hank countered easily, already trying to make sense of what Connor was doing. Organizing trays and various items. Yesterday, Connor had asked Hank what toys Sumo had. A request he just assumed was to find out what to get the dog as a gift. Instead, there was a frisbee, some gloves that doubled as brushes for a dog, a few Kong toys, and a jar of dog-safe peanut butter. 

The polite side of Connor, the part that Amanda raised in being a gracious guest, tried to intercede. It got all of, “We could,” before logic pressed pause on the sentence. Connor’s shoulders rose up, his body tensing as he caught and swallowed what almost stumbled out of his mouth. If he and Hank were five, the suggestion would have been innocent enough. Adults, on the other hand, typically took the proposition of ‘sleeping together’ to a more sexual connotation versus literal. Especially when a bed was involved. Clearing his throat, Connor ignored the raised brow the other man was giving him. Items organized, he straightened his shoulders and raised his chin just enough to give an air of confidence despite it just having taken a tumble. “The time it took you to suggest that, I finished.” Connor informed him. Grabbing the bag with the more casual attire, he faced Hank. “I think I’ll take that nap now.” 

“Have at it.” Hank shrugged, stepping aside to give Connor more space to walk by. Casual steps took him to the bathroom, and with each one Connor could feel blue eyes watching him. Even if he was wondering about what Connor almost said, Hank didn’t bother to ask after about it. Simply let the topic drop. Or perhaps he knew, and was trying to decide how he wanted to take that series of reactions. Changing took little time, and when entering Hank’s room Connor expected to see the remnants of the lieutenant’s messy home filling the floor of the bedroom. 

Alternatively, the bedroom was relatively clean. The floor was clear of discarded clothes, and the closet was tightly closed. Blinds were drawn tightly shut, dark blues that were thick enough to block out most of the daytime sun. The bed itself was neatly made, and there was a soft scent of fabric softener that lingered in the room. A few chuckles left Connor, and he held a hand over his mouth to stifle them further. _I guess I embarrassed him the other day_, he thought with some guilt, and a sprinkle of amusement. Hank was becoming much more interesting on his own, without the added backdrop of the mystery of the silver fur. Placing his bag with his work clothes from yesterday, and the next set for that night, on the stand by the bed Connor settled into the bed. The bedsprings squeaked as he got comfortable, and there were lumps from long term use were telling of the bed’s age. 

Head on the pillows, the smell of detergent was strong. Hank uses lavender… Connor thought, the drowsiness already pulling his eyelids down. In the pillows, there was another smell. Buried beneath the floral scent, one that Connor would never have guessed his lieutenant to use. Men around Hank’s age typically preferred to aim for more socially acceptable ideas of ‘masculine’ scents. The lavender made it difficult to focus, and the exhaustion from staying up all night combined with all the cleaning was pulling him under. More and more. Pressing his nose to the pillows, Connor inhaled deeply. Tried to place what it was he was smelling beneath everything. The smell Hank was trying to hide. 

Hidden in all the artificial smells, there was an earthy one. That of mud and the outdoors, a hint of rain and freshly cut grass. 

Consciousness slipping away, a memory fell over his closed eyes. Of a large lupine beast, close enough to smell. Of fire nearly hitting him, and definitely hitting the creature. The scent of singed fur.

Connor didn’t stir, not until his alarm went off. 

Snapping upwards, disorientation fell over him and the memory was pushed back into reserves once more. Brown eyes blinked rapidly, searching the room and trying to remember where he was. Heart hammering, Connor tried to make sense why his first thought was, ‘fire,’ when he woke. His current location trickled back to him, that he was still at Hank’s house. That he took a short rest, so Connor could be mostly optimal in doing his work that night. Clambering out of the sheets, Connor straightened and tucked them back into the mattress. Tidied the bed in return for Hank, of whom had taken the time to do so for his guest. 

The house was quiet. Slowly turning the doorknob, Connor poked his head out of the bedroom to peer down the hallway curiously. The jingling of Sumo’s collar announced his approach, the dog hurrying over to the sounds of movement. Nose trying to push its way into the bedroom, Connor sucked in his lips and kept the laughs wanting to escape silent. Sumo was eager to greet, and the young man quickly reached down to rub Sumo’s face, run fingernails behind the dog’s ears. “Ssshhh. Where’s Hank?” Connor whispered, awkwardly slipping through the door. Just barely getting out of the room without letting the dog into it, Connor glanced around again. There was no one in the bathroom. The door was left open, but the light from the outside lit it up enough for Connor to see no one was in it. 

Light footsteps kept his movements quiet, Connor peering as he walked down the hallway back into the living room. Faint snoring was coming from the couch. Thick legs hung off the edge of the couch on one side, while silver hairs tumbled across the arm of the other. It registered that, with his bed occupied, Hank had opted to sleep on the couch. Lips quirking upwards, Connor shook his head. All that talk about staying up for twenty-four hours, and here the man was. Conked out on the couch, mouth hanging open with his arms folded across his chest in a defensive rest. 

It was the perfect opportunity to investigate, find all the little secrets Hank kept hidden. 

It was also the best way to destroy the trust built up so far, and just because Connor couldn’t conclude what mundane explanation there had to be didn’t mean it would be worth that. Especially considering Hank was an attractive lieutenant, a fact that was easier to appreciate now that the older man was being less of a hardass. 

Going into the kitchen, Sumo on his heels with tail wagging, Connor chose to check on the ice tray. Swinging open the freezer door open, he coughed at the unfurling chilly streams as hot and cold air hit each other. Tapping one of the cubes in the tray, it stayed solid to the touch. As he closed the freezer door, a chiming sound started to come from the living room. Patting his pocket, Connor assumed it to be Hank’s alarm going off. “Good morning.” Connor greeted from the kitchen. Hearing the sound of his owner waking, Sumo gave a low and excited bark before rushing to greet the other. Groans came from the couch.

“Sumo, c’mon.” Hank complained, and from the open set-up Connor could see the dog happily attempting to lick the lieutenant’s face. Sitting up from the couch, Hank at length got his head away from Sumo’s immediate reach. The dog raised his body to his haunches, ready to try and leap onto the couch to follow. A big hand went to the canine’s chest, and pushed Sumo back just enough to stop the animal from the attempt. Long, drawn-out whines left Sumo, back on all fours and pacing in front of the couch in hopes Hank would be convinced. 

“Thank you for cleaning your room, by the way.” Connor said, walking into the living room. Projecting his voice from the kitchen to interact was doable, but unnecessary. Talking while in the same room had an air of friendliness that he was enjoying.

“Yeah, well, least I could do after making you clean this whole shitshow.” Hank grumbled, rolling his shoulders. A yawn left him, and he stretched his legs out in front of him. 

“In exchange for humoring me in giving your dog a birthday. At your house.” Connor countered. A dry laugh left Hank, and he shook his head. Blue eyes went to his phone, and he checked his messages as the two continued to talk.

“Socialization is never a bad thing for a dog, especially one as friendly as Sumo.” Hank reasoned, a warmth in his voice. Hearing his name, Sumo’s ears perked up and he paused in his whines for attention at the potential of finally getting some. Caving, Hank pet the dog as he checked his phone. Visage becoming more somber, Hank ran teeth over his lips thoughtfully. Attempting to pay the act little mind, Connor went over the decor one last time before pulling out his own phone. A message from Collin, announcing he and Gavin would be arriving shortly. 

Putting together a quick message acknowledging he saw it, Connor pocketed the phone once more. Hank was watching him, mouth halfway open to say something but there was hesitation on his face. A curiosity on the tip of the tongue, with uncertainty pressing the cracked lips closed once more. “Yes?” Connor prompted, raising his right hand and his fingers gestured towards the other. Motions trying to coax the question from Hank.

Shoulders rising with tension, only to fall back down in exaggerated weariness Hank closed his mouth. “I dunno. Thanks.” The words were obligatory, any gratitude that might have been there buried beneath a defeat. 

“You’re welcome.” Connor nodded his head, raising a brow instead of more questions. “Gavin and Collin will be here soon.” He said, an offer of escape for Hank if the other truly decided to avert asking whatever he was wondering about. 

“Guessing they’re expecting us to feed them, going by the food you brought?” Hank inquired, eyes sliding to the side to gaze towards his kitchen. His kitchen that had been invaded by the new guy. All because of a dog.

“I told them we were. Most of it I pre-made last night. Collin offered to make the cake. If Gavin didn’t help him make it, should be edible enough for everyone.” Connor teased, a joke that garnered a grin from Hank once more. 

“Bet you twenty bucks he made Gavin taste test it.” As Hank said this, he turned where he sat to offer a hand out to Connor. That grin still there, one of his own brows raised. Without much thought, Connor walked over to sit next to the other. Held out his own hand, hovering it near Hank’s but not quite taking the bet yet. Connor gave a playful smile of his own.

“Thirty Collin had to make Gavin his own cake afterwards, so he wouldn’t eat Sumo’s.” Connor raised the amount, confidence in his voice and posture as he sat straight.

“Shit, you’re right. Gavin would make him do that.” Hank laughed, eyeing Connor’s hand as he debated the fairness of what he was about to agree to.

“Gavin wouldn’t need to. Collin loves spoiling him.” Connor sighed, and shook Hank’s hand before the lieutenant could put his own down. 

“Excuse you.” Hank huffed, but grudgingly accepted the shake. “Is spoiling people one of those shared twin traits? Because you’re targeting Sumo to do just that.” 

“Dogs aren’t people, and therefore need spoiling.” Connor’s explanation was swift, releasing the other’s hand though he didn’t want to. Hank’s hands were calloused and dry, and had gripped Connor’s in its entirety with no effort. 

“Got it. If I need an easy way to get spoiled, turn into a dog.” Hank chuckled as he spoke. Chuckles that started small, but his smile got wider and his laughter louder. Connor snickered lightly with him, not seeing what made the joke funnier as time carried but it felt good to laugh together. Sumo pressed his head on Connor’s leg, big brown eyes gazing upwards as the dog begged to be allowed onto the couch. When Connor’s own brown eyes met his, Sumo’s tail began to wag once more followed by a low whine. “Oh for the love of… Fine, let him on the couch.” Hank sighed, scooting over to give the animal room to jump between the two men. Both men patted the cushion in the middle, and Sumo scrambled onto it with gusto. Back half on Connor’s lap, front legs and head on Hank’s Sumo was immediately situated. 

There was a rapping at the door, announcing the arrival of Gavin and Collin. “Of course,” “Oh fucking course,” Connor and Hank spoke simulatneously, and the two paused to look from the door to each other. Each shared a grin. “I’ll get it. My house.” Hank said, following it up with a dramatic sigh. Picking up Sumo’s front half, Hank slid out from beneath the dog only to set him back down. While Hank walked to the front door, Sumo huffed. Immediately crawling off the couch, Sumo trotted after the lieutenant with an eager tail wag.

Sitting there, Connor was surprised that the Saint Bernard did not bark despite how ill-trained he was. 

Thick hand grabbing onto Sumo’s collar, Hank grunted as he pulled the dog back and away from the door. Sumo whined, attempting to wriggle out of his collar while Hank awkwardly opened the door. On the doorstep were Gavin holding two bags with sunglasses on, and Collin standing next to him with his arm wrapped around the shorter man’s neck casually. The second the door was open, Gavin walked out of Collin’s hold to begin inspecting Hank’s home. Rolling his eyes, Collin followed after him. 

“Shit Anderson, your house is actually clean.” Gavin said, voice full of shock. There was more whining from Sumo, the dog now attempting to jump away from Hank’s hold because new people!! Two whole new people! Suffering was a dog not allowed to greet guests! Gavin ignored Hank struggling with Sumo, eyes darting around the living room to soak in the decorations. Meanwhile, Collin patiently watched Hank and the dog.

“Mother raised us correctly, so we didn’t turn into heathens like you.” Collin said nonchalantly, his remark aimed more at Gavin than the lieutenant. Hank looked up from dealing with Sumo, frowned, and then released the large dog upon Collin.

“This is my house, asshole.” Hank reminded Collin, face devoid of guilt as Collin quickly side-stepped from Sumo attempting to jump onto him. 

“My apologies, Lieutenant.” Collin mumbled, casting Hank an annoyed glare as he struggled to deal with an overzealous dog. 

“Come on, Sumo.” Connor called, patting the cushion next to himself on the couch. The dog’s ears perked up, and his head turned just slightly to where the voice came from. 

“Get to the couch, Sumo.” Hank ordered, voice weary as he was already exhausted by this whole guest nonsense. With a long, drawn-out huff, the dog ceased trying to jump on Collin. Tail wagging less, but still wagging, Sumo trudged over to the couch for consoling pets from Connor. 

“Your house is clean. I can’t get over that.” Gavin was mumbling under his breath, the sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose so he could continue to soak in what he was seeing without filter. Almost as if in a trance, Gavin set the bags onto the table with the other two gifts. “Connor. You did some serious magic maid shit.” Stopping, the detective immediately turned to Collin. “Why don’t you do stuff like this for _me_?” 

“...Because you’re a grown man that should know better?” Collin inquired, brows furrowing. He held up his hands and shrugged, movements that stalled when realizing Hank was giving him another disapproving look. Cringing slightly, he waved his statement away. “And unlike those of us that work overtime every week, you actually could clean your place.” 

“Hey, Connor. If I get a dog, will you come magic maid my place for me?” Gavin asked, dodging Collin’s eyes and Hank’s annoyed frown in hopes that Connor would be some sanctuary from the disapproving gazes. 

“Honestly I would just save the dog and leave that mess for Collin.” Connor replied, shrugging carelessly as he ran his fingers through Sumo’s fur. The dog rested his head on the man’s lap, letting out the periodic dramatic huff to get his point across he was very displeased with the current set-up. There were four sets of hands that could pet him, yet only one was doing so. Life was unfair for the dog.

“I’d bet Sumo would like a friend.” Collin agreed, unperturbed by his twin threatening to leave him a hot mess. His attire was more casual than his twin’s, as he was still in his work out clothes from the gym earlier. A steel blue tanktop and black sweatpants fit Collin well, a fact that Gavin was trying to ignore. Knowing those two, Connor knew that Collin had probably been flirting with Gavin on the drive over. Not wanting to be a mess in front of his lieutenant, Gavin was being his usual shit self to hide the flustered reaction he had anytime Collin went sweet on him.

The two were disgusting, but even so Connor was glad that Collin found someone that made him so happy. Even if that someone was Gavin. 

“I am kicking all of you out if you keep planning to use my house as some weird dog cafe.” Hank growled. Gavin turned away at the warning, taking his sunglasses off and tucking one of the temples into his white shirt. In the group, he was another to be wearing a pair of old and worn jeans. Instead of being intimidated, Collin’s mouth quirked in the start of a shit-eating grin that only stopped itself out of respect for his host.

There was a weird feeling in the room, as if Connor missed some kind of joke the others got but chose not to share. 

“I recall there being mentions of food, and yet I see none?” Collin pointed out, turning the conversation from the joke that Connor had been left out of. Connor watched his twin with a pointed look, of whom was pretending to not notice and failing. Giving Sumo a few final pets, Connor got up to show his brother to the kitchen. Asking was an option, but in that moment in time Connor decided he would focus on Sumo. On the dog that quite possibly never had his birthday celebrated before, a travesty that demanded immediate correction. 

The party itself went smoothly, and Sumo enjoyed himself. Of that, everyone was certain. The group played fetch with him, got the dog to splash in the pool with them. Even the watermelon pupcicles were huge hits, and Connor was pleasantly surprised to find they were as delicious as they were. The coconut milk added to the flavor, instead of watering it down. On a hot Detroit day, the “pupcicles” rather hit the spot when the sun hit the crest of heat. When Collin wasn’t feeding Gavin another of the iced treat thinking no one would notice, the two rotated between teasing each other and their hosts. 

Hank may have threatened to kick them out earlier, but as he continued to not make good on the threat Connor suspected this was not an unusual interaction between the three. The atmosphere cemented that they all hung out at some point, or continued to do so. That was what was interesting. A dog birthday party was supposed to just be simple fun, but leave it to Collin to add an unnecessary layer of intrigue to it. 

Five in the evening rolled around, and both of the twins’ phone alarm went off to notify them. Collin had already tipped Connor off he planned on taking Gavin to a dinner date, which worked out just fine so Connor could shower, then get ready for work. At Hank’s house. It was easier to focus on saying his goodbyes, to keep him mind from fixating on how rapidly casual and friendly his interactions with Hank had become. As if being given permission to address his lieutenant by first name was equivocal to being indoctrinated as a close friend known for years. 

Hugging his twin, Connor turned his head so he could whisper in his brother’s ear, “You’re going to explain earlier to me.” 

Collin leaned in and answered the whisper with his own, “No.” 

Connor hugged Collin with more force than necessary, an effort barely felt by his twin because where Connor’s work out energies were spent to be his personal version of healthy, Collin did so to lift Gavin at a moment’s notice. The effort earned a laugh from Collin, who gave Connor a friendly pat on the back. “I’ll see you later.” Collin said, pulling away from the hug so he could then snake an arm around Gavin’s lower back. 

“Later, assholes.” Gavin hollered at them, laughing with Collin as the two left.

“Why did you invite them again?” Hank asked, the house quiet once more after the noisier pair exited.

“I keep my promises. Rather unfortunate in this case.” Connor sighed, hands at his side. Sumo took this as an invitation, pressing his nose into the man’s hand. The reaction was immediate, Connor subconsciously petting the dog. “Should have invited Fowler, instead?” He asked, more out of interest in carrying the conversation than actually hearing the answer.

“Gods no.” Hank replied, shaking his head and trying not to imagine. “Don’t get my wrong, I love Jeff. But it would just be me and him talking, and you’d be stuck talking to Sumo.” Actually hearing what he said, Hank gave a short laugh. Looked over to Connor, scratched at his beard as he thought it over. “You would have liked that, I’ll bet.”

“If you were distracted enough, I could have even kidnapped Sumo.” Connor reasoned, lips quirking into a pleased smile. 

“Your dedication to dog abduction is seriously starting to worry me. Did someone steal your dog when your a kid, and now you have this weird ass obsession with stealing every dog you meet to make up for it?” Hank asked, his mouth doing his usual half-smile. That shouldn’t have made Connor’s knees wobbly the way it did. He tried to focus on the fact Hank had a gap between his front teeth, but all that accomplished was finding it endearing. Tried to focus on the way the man’s teeth were yellowing from all that coffee, but then that would mean having to judge his own caffeine addiction and the effects it had. 

“Oh no, you found out my real identity as a dog-napping supervillain. What ever shall I do?” Connor gave a mockery of of acting horrified, dramatically holding a hand up to his forehead to sell the bit to the best of his ability. Acting was never his forte. Not to mention, the being dramatic thing was more Gavin’s area of expertise than it was his own. 

“Not even just an average joe villain, you jumped straight to supervillain. How many dogs, Connor?” Hank asked, releasing a breath that bordered on a laugh. 

“So many dogs. Like, two tons of dogs. Walking them is a nightmare.” Connor couldn’t do it, he could keep up with the feigning and excess. He burst into laughter, shortly by Hank joining him. No longer being pet, Sumo glanced at Connor covering his mouth with a hand and then to his owner Hank who was running fingers through his hair while he chuckled.

“A normal person would have said two hundred or something. You went with two tons. Those are some big-ass dogs. That’s Clifford the Big Red Dog level shit.” Hank pointed out, sucking in a deep breath and releasing it to slow down his laughs. 

“What can I say, I like big things.” The words were offhand, and meandered out of Connor’s mouth as though they peaked in comfort from a long day at the spa. It registered the ways it could have been taken, that it bordered on flirting, and Connor coughed before turning to look at the hallway instead of at Hank. Couldn’t look at Hank, because from what he could see from the corner of his eyes Hank was trying to decide how he should interpret that. If it was a careless comment intended to simply be playful, or if Connor was hinting at something more.

Connor didn’t want either of them having confirmation on which it was.

“Is it still all right if I use your shower?” The segway was clean in Connor’s mind. It was not, however, that way in Hank’s - the man’s brows shot straight upwards. “To get ready for work.” The brunet added in hastily, immediately wanting to kick himself because the rush to clarify made it seem that much more suspicious.

“Nothing’s changed in the last couple of hours so, go on ahead?” Hank’s tone was confused, his brows knitting and his navigation with the new territory their conversation took left him lost. He stepped back to give Connor some room, and motioned with his left arm towards the hallway to be certain the brunet knew he was in the clear. 

With a nod, Connor reached down to massage Sumo’s ears, and then retreated quickly to the shower. As if exited, Hank looked down at Sumo who gazed back up at him with hopeful eyes. The bathroom door clicked, and the sound of the water running helped ease out the air Hank had been holding. 

The shower was quick, Connor wanting to just wash off the sweat without spending so much time that Hank wondered if he was in there for other reasons. The resulting shower didn’t leave him feeling as clean as he wanted to be, but he could always take a proper one when he got home tomorrow. After he slept. 

Packing was quick, with Connor only needing to check that he had all of the clothes he brought with him and overnight supplies. The goodies were Sumo were going to be left with Hank. There was just no purpose in them staying at an apartment that lacked any kind of dog. Bag slung over his shoulder, Connor spotted Hank on the couch with Sumo at his feet. The two were watching a hockey game, closed captioning on. The television must have been background noise, because Hank was texting away on his cell phone. 

Each step that took Connor closer to the couch, he could feel his chest tightening. _I’m a professional. It doesn’t matter how hot my boss is, it doesn’t affect me. Because I am a professional, and professionals don’t do foolish things to get fired_, Connor coached himself. Kept his knees straight, his back upright. Maintained every bit of respectable air about him that Amanda reared him to carry. 

Hand settling on the back of the couch, a few inches from Hank’s shoulder, Connor commended himself. That wasn’t weird, it wasn’t weird at all. Now if he had placed his hand on Hank’s shoulder, massaged and kneaded the skin without warning, that would have been weird. “Try and get some sleep, Hank. The precinct can function without you for a night, I promise.” Connor said, the best way he could think of to say he was leaving. Announcing he was leaving was straightforward enough, and it would have been believable that Connor simply used Hank to hang out with a friendly Saint Bernard all day. But it felt misleading, and mean in a way. 

The phone slid from Hank’s hand and onto the couch, bouncing on the cushion once before lying face down. Leaning his head back to look at Connor with one brow raised Hank was dubious as he asked, “Will it really, though?” The smile the question earned him from Connor, he reflected back to the brunet. 

The two stared at each other, not for a length of time that was unnatural but it was long enough for both to realize neither had actually said anything since blue and brown locked gazes. Both immediately looked away.

“I keep my promises, Lieutenant.” Connor reminded him instead. With a grunt, Sumo lifted his tired self off the ground to nudge his nose against the brunet’s hand. Tail wagging as he expected more affection. Always more, more, more. “Greedy dog.” Connor sighed, smiling as he obliged the anima’s request.

“Don’t make promises for shit you can’t control.” Hank advised, and followed in Sumo’s example to get up. “Come on, lemme walk you to the door.” Hank sighed, slapping a hand onto Connor’s shoulder and pushing him towards the front. Since Hank initiated it, automatically the act wasn’t weird. It wasn’t as though the warm hand was a reassuring pressure, that helped Connor relax beneath its weight. 

Giving a hum in response, Connor gave Sumo a final pat. Grabbed the handle to open the door, found himself caught in blue orbs all over again when he looked up to thank the taller man. The two weren’t standing far apart, and Hank didn’t hover that much more above Connor. It was feasible, that what happened next was an accident. They could certainly claim it as such, cast the blame as an error of depth perception of Sumo’s attention-hungry desperation bumping one into the other. 

Neither would do so, though. As lips pressed into lips, hands finding purchase on clothes that didn’t belong to them, the idea of pretending it was an accident dissipated like smoke. It was impossible not to linger. Hank was warm, was a solid in a world that was shifting beneath Connor. Had that smell of earth that didn’t quite fit in, but that was a question he wasn’t worried about right then. That teasing question of why was pushed from his head, because all that mattered was the sweetness of the kiss. The way Hank’s beard tickled and scratched at Connor’s face, how being close was not quite close enough.

Connor’s phone vibrated in his pocket, bringing the time back to them both. Pulling away, Connor could still smell and taste Hank’s breath. Knew the other could smell his, as well. Swallowing, he made himself check to see who it was, what they wanted. A reminder to pay his rent. He really needed to get autodraft set up for that. “Apartments want to get paid.” Connor explained, knowing there wasn’t a need to but words were failing him. Talking wasn’t what he wanted to use his mouth for in that moment. With a short nod, Hank held his lips tight. 

This wasn’t the situation Connor wanted to walk away from. To leave on an awkward note, to have a kiss that ran the risk of no further comment or happening again. “Brunch?” Connor suggested, the first that came to mind the best bet he had. The older man parted his lips, blue eyes looking into Connor’s eyes, and then through them. 

“Tomorrow?” Hank finally asked for the clarification, seeing whatever it was he had been seeking. A lightness filled Connor’s chest, his smile reaching his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Connor agreed. Leaned forward, pressed an airy kiss into Hank. Felt those lips return with fervor, heard his bag fall to the ground because Hank was more important right then. Wrapping his arms around the lieutenant, being held and pressed against another body. There was nothing in the code of conduct that prohibited dating between co-workers. No issues were there, except now there was a conflict of interest. 

Connor still didn’t know. That mystery was still there, lingering in a different delectable kind of way than how Hank’s mouth did on his. Chasing Hank’s secrets while dating him, the idea felt almost manipulative. Waiting to get answers would be best, but Connor never knew of a time he just let mysteries remain untouched. 

As Hank pressed into him more, crushed Connor’s body against his own, Connor decided to learn a new skill. Learning was living, and being with Hank in that moment was the living he wanted to do more of.


	3. Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks. Adjusting to night life was becoming easier, now that some of his nights off overlapped with Hank’s. Born and raised in Detroit, most of their initial dates consisted of Hank showing Connor around. Collin did something similar with Connor first moved to the area, but his twin showed him all the necessary places. Which grocery stores had the best deals, which laundromats to use if the apartment’s washers or dryers weren’t functioning. Dog parks that had friendly owners in addition to friendly dogs, that way Connor didn’t waste his time around snobby pet owners. Places that Connor needed to know about, to make living in Detroit easier. 

Versus Hank who insisted on showing Connor the ‘best’ sports bars in the area, or the best times and places to hit up the food trunks. One of their dates took them to a roller rink. It had been disco night, and Hank must have known because the button-up he wore that night was decorated in peace signs. Neither of them were particularly good in traveling on wheels, but it was fun being bad at something with someone else. Too much time studying and striving to be the best, or challenging himself to be better than Collin.

It was strange to find such comfort in failing as much as he did, all because Hank was next to him laughing at how bad they both were. “We should invite Gavin and your bro to start a roller derby team with us. Call ourselves the bowling balls, because we’d just fucking plow through everyone one,” Hank commented with deep, belly laughs.

Connor loved it when they held hands, or sat next to each other with their arms wrapped around shoulders and waists. The closer he was the Hank, the more it felt… Right. A sense of belonging, of finding where he was supposed to be. That warmth, that reassurance, it lingered even when they separated to go to their individual homes. It nudged aside the whole purpose Connor came at Hank with, unless the mystery of the fur was little more than a memory that cropped up when he found silver fur strangely out of place. 

Sumo was growing quickly, picking up on commands from Hank with a borderline genius-level of understanding. The lieutenant made dog training seem so easy, practically a modest party trick anyone could pick up. Days were passing too quickly, as fall approached the only change that unsettled Connor was that in Collin.

The playful mood he had around Hank on Sumo’s birthday was slowly eroding. Collin watched Hank with a gaze bordering on suspicious. To make it weirder, Gavin would try to step in. Play it cute with Collin to distract his boyfriend. Hank wasn’t Connor’s first boyfriend, and this wasn’t an attitude Collin had with exes. Whatever happened between the lieutenant and Connor’s twin, it wasn’t due to Collin being an overprotective twin. There was more to the story, but asking got him no greater answer than helpless shrugs of, “Don’t really know either,” from Hank.

The workload stayed constant at DPD, and feeling of being perpetually understaffed a fact of life there. Captain Fowler told Hank, many times, that his hands were tied. Back office said they didn’t have the budget to hire another person in forensics. He also tacked on that back office wouldn’t be persuaded to raise the budget just, “Because you want your schedule to sync up with Arkay’s.” 

It was a crisp autumn evening, Hank and Connor were walking Sumo. The dog yawned audibly, licking his lips afterwards loudly. Trying to convey to his people that he was tired, and a thirty minute walk was enough. The two continued down the sidewalk, Connor content to follow Hank wherever he decided to take them. Conversation was light, mostly Connor using a mix of joking and being serious about Sumo needing a playmate.

The two with dog in tow reached a park, the trees decorating their limbs and the ground with vibrant reds and golds that glinted in the slit that remained of the setting sun. The area overlooked the Detroit river, and Hank walked them down the sidewalk leading into it. Not stopping in listening, commenting, or walking until they reached a bench right by the river. The last of the sun’s rays disappeared, the area plunged into the briefest darkness before street lamps flickered to life. 

An audible grunt left Hank, and he dropped his body onto the bench to sit. Patted the spot next to him, and sighed as he felt Connor fit next to him. No longer paying his humans much mind, Sumo started to sniff the area around them. Raised his leg some, marking in short spurts a territory that another dog would do the same for tomorrow. To the right of them was a playground, kids laughing and giggling while their parents tried to call them back. Reminded the children that it was getting late, and weren’t they hungry for dinner? 

The young faces reminded Connor that there was a picture of a child at Hank’s house. One of those mysteries he was afraid to poke. “Is this… Something serious for you, too?” Hank asked, his voice a low rumble. Blue eyes stayed on the river, watching the water flow. A rare change from how he usually put all of his focus on Connor, only pulling away if there was a need to. 

Connor wanted to jokingly ask if Hank meant dogs, but the mood didn’t feel right for that. Leaning his head on Hank’s shoulder, he nodded as he said, “Yes.” Wanted it to stay simple and direct. Whatever was going on in the lieutenant’s head, he wasn’t going to complicate or confuse. Raising his chin and turning, Hank rested his head on top of Connor’s. Let out a long, long sigh. 

“I used to just do detective work, like Reed. It wasn’t enough, though. Daycare was expensive. College even more expensive.” Hank kept his voice low, and with Connor’s ear to his throat it felt like the lieutenant was speaking all around him. The face of a little boy, surrounded by a silver frame came to mind. A big smile, bright and cheery and kept clean even before Hank tried to get better about it. The most out of place item in all of Hank’s home. “I worked hard. Got promoted. Bills got easier. More vacation time, we were making plans.

I promised we’d go to Disneyland.” And that was when Hank’s voice began to waver. A pale hand, dotted with moles wrapped its fingers around Hank’s arm. Ran soothing circles, Connor reminding Hank he was here in the now. That Connor was there with him, and was patient. Wouldn’t force it from him. “It was a drunk driver. T-boned us right into the passenger side.” There were no more words, just shaky breaths from Hank. 

No words came to mind. A shock was settling into Connor’s mind, in addition to questions. Ones that could be answered, eventually, when Hank was ready. In the meantime, Connor rotated his head, pressed a kiss into Hank’s beard where jaw and throat met. A sigh left Hank’s lips, and he hugged the other closer to himself. “There’s a lot I need to tell you. Most of it sounds really, really fucking stupid.” A bitter laugh left Hank when he spoke. “But that… That’s important. And I wanted you to know.” He continued.

“Thank you, for telling me.” Connor wanted to ask how long it had been, when this happened. What was the child’s name? Was he from a previous relationship, was he adopted? But Hank’s eyes were glassy, and it wasn’t an easy topic to begin sharing. Refusing to press, Connor gaze the other another reassuring squeeze and kiss. 

Unfortunately, his lips missed their target. Hank pulled away, back straightening so he could raise his body upwards. Blue eyes were alert, and were searching the area. “Take Sumo home.” Hank ordered, hand already pushing Connor away from him and shoving Sumo’s leash into his boyfriend’s fingers.

“Hank?” Connor called, standing up shortly after Hank was already on his feet and walking in the direction of the playground. 

“Take Sumo home.” Hank repeated, lifting up the thin jacket he was wearing to reach for the gun in his holster. With steps getting larger by the second, the lieutenant was getting further away while Connor stood there trying to make sense of the sudden shift. He hadn’t heard anything, seen anything. There were no earbuds in Hank’s ears, so it was definitely not the work radio. And even if there were buds, they were both off that night. Neither of them carried their work radio around them when on a date. That was their time together.

Tugging on the leash, Sumo tried to pull Connor in the same direction that Hank was heading. The brunet planted his firm, determined to stay firm where he was. There wasn’t enough information to just blindly follow an order, outside of something happened. Potentially dangerous, and Hank didn’t want anything to happen to his dog. Straying behind, running away, these weren’t things that Connor did, however. He needed to get Sumo somewhere safe, and follow-up to see if Hank needed back-up. 

It just… Seemed wrong that Hank would tell Connor to do something, without telling him why. That wasn't how they did things. At work or in more personal moments. Swearing under his breath, Connor tugged on Sumo’s leash and broke into a run. Raced towards the ice cream shop they passed earlier, knew it was still open. Came to an abrupt halt, practically physically smacking into the glass doors. The employee looked up from their cleaning, and then looked to the clock. Eyes went back to Connor, who by this point was hurrying in with Sumo in tow.

“Hey, we’re about to close-” The employee tried to inform Connor, voice trembling as they worked the courage to notify the last customer.

“Police business, watch my dog.” Connor commanded, shoving the leash into the hand of the shop’s employee. An employee that stood there dumbfounded, the leash handle dangling from their hand. When Sumo tried to follow after the familiar scent of his human, the employee’s fingers clutched the leash and held tightly, their eyes bugging. 

“Uhhh…” The uncertain sounds of the employee followed Connor out the door, silenced as it swung shut behind him. Carrying a gun wasn’t a favourite hobby of Connor’s. It just felt more secure being on his persons, instead of left locked in his apartment. The brunet didn’t plan on getting robbed, but nothing made his stomach turn more than if he did, and then someone used his work-issued gun to take a life. 

That wasn’t a tragedy he wanted on his conscious. 

Hurrying back to where he last saw Hank, a groan left Connor’s throat because no one was there. The park was empty, barely lit by the lamps scattered throughout it. Slowing down, brown eyes tried sweeping the area. He stuck close to trees, and his fingers hovered over his gun. The weapon wasn’t going into his hand until he knew, for certain, there was a need. A creepy, suddenly desolate park at night was the sort of thing that was perfect for scary stories but not guns. 

The shadows gave him good coverage, from what he wasn’t sure. There were no signs of Hank, or anyone for that matter. The only sounds were from cars on the street not too far away, the lapping of the river against the concrete, and some music from nearby stores that loud enough to be heard but too quiet to make out the song. The longer he creeped along, trying to find any hints or indications of where Hank went or why, the greater the temptation to call grew. 

Rationality was what kept Connor’s hands away from his phone. If Hank was in a dangerous situation, and his phone wasn’t muted then a call would expose his position. Being honest with himself, Connor was attached to Hank. Perhaps too much. Even in the older man’s weaker moments, especially in those moments. When the lieutenant was exposed before him, asking Connor why. Those moments Hank couldn’t make sense of why someone nearly half his age was going on dates with him. Didn’t the looks people give bother Connor? Those pitying and judgemental eyes, assuming the worst of a relationship they knew nothing about. 

Voices. 

Several voices, talking in hushed tones. Lowering his body as close to the ground as he could, Connor watched the ground more than what was in front of him. Cautious of stepping on twigs or into especially crunchy fall leaves. Would pause to inspect his surroundings, be certain he didn’t crouch walk into something or directly into someone’s line of sight. Nearing the voices, he was able to see a group of people. They all had rifles, and a few had flashlights in their hands. Two of them were smoking, right next to a sign asking visitors to not smoke there. Jerkoff, Connor thought in agitation at the blatant disregard for the law. Lifting his head some, Connor tried to see if there were any signs of Hank in the ground.

Without any doubt, none of them were Hank, 

“...Time… Caught…” There were flickers of their conversation making its way to Connor, but he couldn’t hear enough to make sense of what the topic was. What they were doing in the middle of a park, in the middle of the night, with guns. 

Connor could only assume they were planning a robbery, even though the group looked closer to a hunting party than a collection of bankrobbers. 

He needed to get to an area with more light, to obscure the light his phone would emit when trying to text for help, but still dark enough he wasn’t noticed. If he could just circle around halfway, a shop was positioned perfectly for what he needed. Sneaking along the way, Connor’s movements were slowed by the need to stay as the unknown. He couldn’t remember who was on nightshift. Thanks to always providing doughnuts for the breakroom, most of the officers insisted the brunet had their number ‘just in case.’ 

And who said love and adoration couldn’t be bought? Clearly, someone who never spent too much of their paycheck on doughnuts for their co-workers. Connor envied those people, because ultimately the effect it had on his finances wasn’t really worth it. 

“You idiots had best let me out.” A voice growled, familiar and foreign all at once. A nagging immediately struck at the back of Connor’s skull, desperate to place why the voice sounded familiar. It had a gravelly sound to it, but Connor couldn’t place who he knew with that sort of voice. No, he couldn’t focus on whether he knew who it was or not. He needed to get to that light, get that back-up in. “My man is going to wreck. Your. Shit.” The strangely familiar voice continued. “I’m talking tornado alley up all your asses.” They continued. The voice was masculine. A mix of sassy and snarky. It sounded almost like…

“REED!” _That_ was a voice Connor knew, and it was hardened with a cold fury he hadn’t heard since they were in elementary school and the wrong kid decided to pick on the twins. From his cover, he watched his twin pop out from the underbrush and punch one of the group members square in the jaw. Rifles were quickly trained on him, and Collin didn’t flinch. Biceps flexing, entire body tensing Collin grabbed hold of the next nearest group member, lifting them, and threw them into the nearest guns.

“HOLD FIRE!” A voice ordered, stopping most of the guns from going off. Two already shot, a scream ripping from another person that Collin used for momentum to carry himself out of the way barely in time. 

“And here we have Hurricane Collin barring down on Hunter’s Coast JUST LIKE I PREDICTED.” Gavin started cackling when he spoke, but his laugh was cut short with a sharp yelp. Connor couldn’t see him, not from his vantage point, but he could hear him. He could at least see his brother charging through this collection of gun enthusiasts, who were yelling and shouting and raising their weapons at him. No longer caring they were told not to.

Better angle for help be damned, Connor raised his own gun. Took careful aim, and fired a shot off at one of the people’s rifles. There wasn’t enough information to work with, only the visual sight of people trying to kill his twin. The blood from one of the hunters was bright red in the lights of the night lamps, and whatever this was those were loaded weapons. More shouts, half of the group reading their rifles at Collin while the other tried to pinpoint where the stray bullet originated from.

A howl cut into the night, A bullet shot past Connor, about ten feet from him. The brunet held his breath, keeping low. The hunter that shot in his direction was paling, a panic in his eyes that unsettled Connor’s stomach. Someone like that shouldn’t be holding a gun. In the shadows, closer to the river there was movement. A large form, and the only reason it caught Connor’s attention was the thumping of feet. Fear gripped him. What if that was Sumo, and the dog got away from the ice cream shop?

He was such an idiot, trusting Hank’s dog with an absolute stranger. If these panicked idiots started firing at anything the way they were, if Sumo got shot…

Connor’s stomach turned, the idea making him nauserous. Swallowing hard, keeping the bile down, he slinked closer to the ground. Aimed, fired another shot The person with the rifle getting shaky and unpredictable screamed, more from alarm at the bullet hit his gun and bounced off. There was a dent in the barrel, and the hunter dropped their weapon as they scrambled backwards in terror. Another howl.

Collin uppercutted another one of the hunters, his movements stiff and his fearless charge were indicators he knew exactly what he was walking into. Underneath his jacket was a bulletproof vest, but he practically didn’t need one if Gavin was in danger. It was bizarre, but perhaps this some weird cult that abducted police? The park was a strange place to set it up, though. 

What were the key components Connor was missing?

Questions for later, because another shot was fired closer to where Connor was. He sucked in a sharp breath, kept himself still because he couldn’t reveal his position. Unlike his twin, he didn’t charge into this expecting rifles and a full-on brawl in the middle of the night. Distantly, Connor wondered how much of help the bulletproof vest would even be against a rifle shell. 

Just as he finally pushed how bizarre the situation was fully to the side, rationality was long gone when a large white wolf leapt from what might have been nowhere. A large clawed paw swiped at two of the men, a leg too thick for a normal wolf easily knocking the men to the side. Connor’s mouth dropped open, brown eyes going wide in disbelief. 

The only reaction Collin had to the massive beast joining the fray was an aggravated growl, and when he lifted one of the hunters by the throat threw them to the ground with far more force than necessary. The target of Collin’s violence lay completely still on the ground, head lolling and Connor thought he could see stains of red leaking from the hunter’s skull onto the earth. 

“What are you doing here?!” Collin finally growled, forcing his way through the group. More were running over. Leaning down, right shoulder presented forward, Collin charged forwards as if this were a game of gridion. Rifles were ready, but Connor fired off two more shots and sent the attackers into disarray. It gave Collin enough time to safely barrel into them. The large gray wolf paused as it struck through a few of the hunters, a remarkably expressive face on its canine features. Its blue eyes followed the shadows, sliding past where Connor was hiding. 

The beast growled, but resumed its focus on the people it could see. 

“Better question: what the fuck were you two thinking?” The beast snarled, and Connor concluded he had officially lost hold of his rationality. The wolf was speaking in a deeper version of Hank’s voice, more gravel and snarls in his tone than usual but that was definitely Hank’s voice. As he watched the chaos unfolding before him, Connor knew exactly how a computer felt when the blue screen happened.

“Your plan was shit.” Collin answered, smashing two of the hunter’s skulls into each other with a brutality Connor had never seen before. There was whimpering from further away, and the brunet remembered he hadn’t heard any snarky remarks from Gavin recently. Been too caught up in the surreal situation, the guns trained on his twin, the… Well, everything. “So we made our own plan.”

“Yours is going _real_ well.” The Hank-sounding wolf roared, biting into one of the hunters and flinging the body into more. 

Keeping his body low to the ground, moving slowly Connor tried to find any signs of Gavin. Was sliding along in the direction he had heard the man speak earlier, the same place that Collin was trying to get to. With all of these gunshots, someone was bound to have heard. Yet, there were no police sirens pulling closer. No screams of nearby innocents or rubberneckers. Just the booms of rifles being shot, fist connecting with flesh, and the snarls of a massive beast that when it reared up was as tall (or taller) than Collin. 

That was when Connor noticed, fifty yards or so away from the madness, there was a thin glowing, silver line. His eyes followed it, and realized it seemed to encircle the area they were in, 

This was a lucid dream. At some point in the evening, Connor passed out without realizing. He had to be on a stretcher, being rushed to the hospital while Hank’s panicked voice resounded around him. Inching closer, Connor saw another large wolf. This one was bleeding, a front leg raised off the ground and held close. There was a pool of red beneath the limb, Chains were around it, the fur beneath rubbed off and exposing rawed skin. This wolf-like creature was a rustic brown,with bits of its undercoat a softer amber. Its green eyes were familiar, and almost human despite the canine shape of them. 

Years ago, Connor had gone with an ex to see a movie. His boyfriend at the time was into horror films, and insisted they check out one together. It wasn’t a promising date. Not that Connor disliked movies, but he simply struggled to be engaged in horror films. Most used lazy writing, as a majority of the scripts were rendered useless if cell phones were an option involved. The gore was gratuitous, and had little effect on Connor who was literally in a field that required him to investigate portions of actual human remains.

The violence Connor was witnessed was not why his mind suddenly went back to that movie from years ago. Instead, it was the fact the film had been about werewolves and in a world that didn’t make sense suddenly, that was the one explanation that had any kind of grounding. 

And that wasn’t even a real thing. Werewolves.

_It would explain why Hank’s DNA came back as partially lupine_, a voice reasoned inside of Connor’s. He was lurking, trying to line up a shot to take out one of the guards in front of the injured beast. To ensure Collin got to his target with ease, if this even was his target. There were no other signs of Gavin. If the big beast sounded like Hank, then just maybe…

_Explains all those dog jokes, that sounded like there was an extra layer to them_, the voice continued, conjuring memories from Sumo’s birthday party. _That self-satisfied grin Collin wore when suggesting feeding Hank and Gavin dog-bone shaped treats. How Sumo seems to understand Hank so well, even though training a dog that old shouldn’t be that quick_, the evidence was piling up. An impossible solution to an ethereal situation. The ground beneath Connor’s feet was soft, the dirt giving beneath his feet while leaves were nudged away to keep his silence. 

_Why Hank smells like the outdoors, why he loves sniffing me, saying how much he enjoys knowing his scent is on me_, the voice continued and Connor couldn’t deny that was his own. Little indications, hints, things that he presumed were quirky. Or in that last one’s case, a harmless kind of possessive. Lowering himself to the ground, the shot was lined. Brown eyes glanced to where he heard the fighting from Collin and the silver wolf, made sure neither were going to leap into the line of fire. 

Connor pulled the trigger, the bullet flying by and through one of the guard’s hands. They screamed, dropping whatever it was they had been holding to clutch their bleeding hand. The other three guards rushed over to him, startled chatter brewing between them. The brown wolf’s ears twitched in Connor’s direction, but didn’t move its eyes to where the sound came from. Instead it cocked its head to the side, and very slowly shifted so it was looking more to the west compared to where the gun went off. The guards saw the motion, one of which pumped their rifle and started a predatory walk towards it. 

Away from where Connor was. 

Smart wolf.

Firing another shot, a second guard screamed. The small collection of hunters were bound to be getting attention from the larger collection, and shouts were surrounding them. Another howl, from where Collin was. Long and drawn-out, the hunters were trying to give each other directions but their words were drowned out by the sound. There was confusion and chaos. A silver body broke through the final ranks, that light fur streaked in red. There were cuts on its body, but much of the blood appeared to belong to its victims instead of its own wounds. Collin was on its heels, dropping a body to the ground. 

The second Collin’s eyes landed on the injured wolf, that cold and relentless charge was back in full-swing. The last of the opponents standing between him and the injured creature were thrown around like ragdolls between Collin’s unbridled fury, and the snarling beast crashing through everything with him. When the two finally reached the brown wolf, it gave a barking laugh.

“Hey, Hank.” The Gavin-sounding beast spoke, and Connor’s stomach flipped when one eye blinked in his direction. An action Collin and ‘Hank’ certainly notified, but neither acknowledged. Collin had a bloodied key in his hand, and was already undoing the locks to free the other. His lips were drawn tight, and Collin’s silence was only to stop himself from screaming and crying in relief. The second the bindings were undone, Collin grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck and pulled it into a hug, pressing his face against its skull.

“You are such a fucking dumbass…” Collin sighed, and the rest of his words faded away in murmured words into fur. Audible only for what was Gavin’s ears.

Right. So that was Gavin. 

Back to the blue screen sensation, of Connor’s mind locking up and no longer able to process information. To the extent that, perhaps in a way he did black out for a moment. In the blink that Connor could recall, the large silver creature went from being there to suddenly gone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upwards, sensing something before he saw or felt it. A large paw pressed on his back, a grunt leaving Connor as he was pinned onto the ground.

“I fucking knew it.” It was Hank’s voice, coming out of the wolf’s mouth and followed its words with an irritated growl that once started, didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Sucking in a sharp breath, Connor let go of his handheld and tried to catch up to what was happening. His brother was twenty feet away, making sweet talk to a wolf. That he was calling Gavin. There was a gun fight with massive wolves involved, that no one seemed to even notice. And now, one of those lupine creatures was forcing Connor to remain where he was, and had Hank’s voice.

The information was playing on loop in Connor’s mind.

“H-Hank?” Connor finally stammered out. 

“Yeah, Connor?” It was Hank. The doubt that was there clung tightly, refused to completely leave. Because werewolves made zero scientific sense, and Connor lived and died by science.

Unless a werewolf killed him, at which point science had failed to save him from whatever allowed such an impossibly physiology to eist.

“You were your own dog.” It was the first thing that left Connor’s mouth, because the only comfort he could latch onto right then, aside from seeing his brother and Hank were safe, was that he finally had the answer. The explanation he sought at with fervence, up until the magnetism between them proved to be more distracting. To be so much more pleasant the picking confusing clues left behind by the lieutenant.

At that, Hank stopped growling because a laugh rumbled from his chest. The paw removed itself from Connor’s back, taking a couple steps away to give the younger mad some space. Sitting down on his hindlegs, Hank took a long and deep sigh as he watched the other. “That’s one way to put it.” The lieutenant agreed, his canines exposed as he gave the best grin a wolven face could manage. 

Finally able to get a good look at him, Connor pushed himself up to roll onto his rear. The two were mostly in the shadows, away from the light cast by the lamp’s and the moon. There was still a silver line encircling the area, separating the supernatural setting the two sat in from the reality where werewolves didn’t exist.  
Connor could only assume that had something to do with why no one noticed any of this. 

Even in the darkness, Hank’s lighter fur stood out starkly. The silver hairs were becoming matted with dried blood, and his body was closer to anthropomorphic. The proportions were a blend of human and lupine, and the musculature seemed designed to support bipedal movement in addition to quadruped. Those blue eyes were the same, and age gave a slight hunch to the way he sat. As people, Hank was bigger than Gavin but the difference in build and size seemed more drastic as wolves. 

The movie Connor had seen, with werewolves had lore about the wolves being able to turn others. The fact Collin just marched into a camp of people holding his boyfriend hostage, as a man, made Connor wonder if that was true about turning people. If it was, then Gavin hadn’t been able to convince Collin to join him in the fuzzier side. 

“Should I wait to ask questions until after the dead bodies are cleared? I want to ask now, but I don’t think I should surrounded by dead people.” Connor blurted.

“The rest of the pack will clean it up.” Hank answered, rolling his shoulders and only adding more questions instead of answering the one he was asked. “So, you’ll need to wait. You also need to get Sumo, and go _home_.” Sighing wearily, he turned his head so blue eyes could watch Connor more carefully. “I’ll explain tomorrow. I promise” 

“You’re not going to just disappear?” Connor asked suspiciously, having nothing more than movies to guide him through the situation.

“Honestly, there’s not much I won’t do to avoid an awkward conversation. Lucky for you, doing that this time would involve selling a fucking house, going through mortgage or HELOC bullshit and finding a new job and relearning to not hate all my coworkers and gods, I’m exhausted thinking about that… No. I’m not going to disappear. The awkward conversation is actually the lesser of two evils.” Hank rambled, body sagging as he spoke. “For a change, anyway.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Connor said, picking up his gun and putting it back into the holster. Standing up, he hung there awkwardly for one too many seconds. Wondering if he should pet Hank, before deciding that could be taken as condescending. He was clueless about any of this. Instead, he hurried off with his mind a noisy whir. 

After what he witnessed, getting back to the ice cream he should have been surprised that the kid who was closing was still there with Sumo. The dog had peanut butter on his face, and was still trying to lick the remnants off his chin. “I, uh, made sure the ingredients didn’t list xylitol, so… He should be fine.” The employee confessed, awkwardly offering the leash back to Connor. “He’s really sweet.” They added, almost sheepish. Connor had dirt on his clothes, and powder on his hands. They didn’t ask him about gunshots. About what happened. Instead just seemed confused, and almost quietly pleased they were able to spend some time with an animal as gentle as Sumo.

“Thank you. If everything goes well, I think… I think I solved an investigation.” Connor said, a relieved smile on his face. He should have gone back to Hank’s house. To let Sumo back into his own home, to wait there for when Hank returned.

There were too many thoughts, though. So instead Connor went back to his apartment, deciding he would deal with the front office later when they asked why he not only brought in a dog, but a large one. An exhaustion Connor hadn’t felt in weeks was hitting him, and he collapsed on his bed. Sumo took the space he left as an invitation and hopped the mattress with him.

A rapping on the door woke up. Yawning, Connor crawled out of bed where Sumo remained. Hank had gotten the dog his own personal bed, but apparently Sumo’s true desire was to be in the human bed. The dog was not giving up his opportunity that easily. Still in his clothes from last night, Connor didn’t bother to fix his disheveled appearance. It had to be the woman from the apartment front office. Sumo hadn’t barked, but the brunet doubted no one saw him bringing in a dog last night on the cameras. Opening the door, it wasn’t anyone from front office.

It was Hank.

Hank with an envelope, a thin bouquet of flowers that were held in his hand uncomfortably as if both the man and flora were uncertain if they were supposed to be there. There were bags under Hank’s eyes, and his clothes were dirty. A bandaid was on his face, and he gave a stiff nod towards Connor. Standing aside, the brunet motioned for him to come inside. 

Walking over to the couch, plopping down, Hank continued to hold the items in his hand. 

“Sumo’s here.” Connor informed him, assuming the man probably wanted to know where his dog disappeared to.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Hank admitted, nodding his head in an almost mechanical motion. Not wanting to stand there awkwardly, Connor sat on the opposite side of his couch by Hank. Turned his body so he was facing the older man, brown eyes watching him. Not asking about the card or flowers, because those weren’t nearly as interesting as what happened last night.But these were what Hank started with, as he set them on the table. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you wanted to actually still talk. You know. Because you actually kidnapped my dog.”

“I have said on many occasions I was going to.” Connor reminded him, a slight smile quirking on his lips. Hank gave him a half-grin in response.

“So, the card kind of… I dunno, I’ve never had to actually do this. Everyone I’ve dated in the past already knew. Either because Gavin’s an idiot, or someone else in the pack fucked up. Truth be told, I think the biggest mystery in the damn city is how more people don’t know we exist.” Hank gave a dry laugh at this, and with his items no longer in his hands crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll try my best. If you have questions, shoot, just ask.” He said, permission immediately handed over to Connor.

“So, yeah. I’m a werewolf. It’s not like in Hollywood, though. I mean, it kind of is? Full moon’s, its easiest to change from this to that. Hardest during the day. When I was younger I’d do it, mostly to show off that I could. But, shit, it’s easier for people to see you during the day. And it’s exhausting. Pasta was a damn food staple back then for me, burned so many calories doing it. 

What you saw last night, those guys were a bunch of conspiracy theorists. Every now and then, they recruit enough people to be a problem. It’s a pain, because they don’t just harass us, they harass everyone else. My pack checked on them, none of them are dead. They’re being taken to a witch, she’ll be able to help the ones your brother wrecked recover, and is going to see if she can’t… Adjust their memories so they all think their food was drugged or something, I don’t know what it is she does. But it doesn’t hurt them, and gets the group off our backs for awhile.” Stopping there, Hank scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t sure if he covered all the important points, because he already knew all the answers. Guessing at what wasn’t explained was harder without having the ignorance. 

“Werewolves and witches…” Connor said, nodding his head in slow motions. “So, you’re telling me magic is a thing or this ‘witch’ is just… A fancy word for doctor and hypnotist?” 

“Magic is a thing.” Hank said, his eyes catching Connor’s and blues gazed into browns. “I’d say what we have is pretty magical.” And then he gave a lopsided grin. Despite himself, Connor laughed at the rather smooth transition.

“Cute.” Connor said, shaking his head and trying to push away the smile. To not get distracted by Hank, because last night was weird and they needed to figure things out. “What was the plan you and Collin were talking about?”

“The plan…” Hank blew out a breath, his hand switching from scratching to pushing fingers through gray hair thoughtfully. “We were going to use Gavin as bait, set up a trap. Catch those idiots, take them out with minimal injuries on all sides. Collin hated it. Obviously. Was giving me the cold shoulder for a bit, of which I know you noticed. Apparently they decided to take it upon themselves to do something different. Kind of suspected they were going to. I took us to the park, because I figured Collin wouldn’t risk doing anything dangerous with you nearby. Win-win. Go on a date with you, spend another night not worrying about those two. Damn, was I way off with that one.” Blue eyes finally looked away, all so Hank could roll them at the memory of last night. 

“How long has Collin known?” Connor inquired, his heart sinking to hear the answer. 

“About as long as he and Gavin have been dating.” Hank answered, a shrug accompanying what he said. The disappointment on Connor’s gave must have showed, because the lieutenant tensed seeing the subtle frown that resulted from it. “Gavin didn’t exactly get permission to tell him, and Collin didn’t want you to know. The guy is a machine, Con.” He paused. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that, you’ve probably known for years…” He grumbled, realizing he was speaking to Collin’s twin.

“Back then. When you rescued me. What was that about? Where was that fire from?” Connor asked, trying to shake off the sensation of being less than. To remind himself that were he in Hank’s shoes, he would have listened to Collin, too. 

“Those conspiracist dudes got their hands on a salamander.” Hank closed his eyes, the lids scrunching tightly at the memory. “Fuck that was a pain. And then your ass showed up, and I’m trying to figure out what Collin is doing out there. Why that idiot thinks he needs to be wherever Gavin is, punching whatever threatens him… And I realized you weren’t Collin, which made it ten fucking times worse. Look, I couldn’t let you get hurt, because your brother is dating Gavin, and I know your brother and he would fucking kill someone. And then I’d have to listen to Gavin’s fucking bitching about having to arrest his boyfriend and just… It was way fucking easier to save you at the time.”

“At the time?” Connor echoed, raising a brow. Hank cracked open one eye to stare at him, frowning.

“ Yeah. Until _your_ nosy ass abused equipment, and I can’t do jackshit about it because like Hell I’m going to explain to Jeff that, oh yeah, by the way we’ve been best friends for fucking years but did I ever mention I’m a _gatdamned werewolf_? No? Huh, weird.” Hank went on a tangent, glancing at Connor to catch the other’s brown eyes widening into saucers at having been caught. “Oh yeah, you think I didn’t notice? I’m your _lieutenant_, Connor. I know every single time one of you does something you’re not supposed to. Working with Gavin, you get pretty damn good at knowing what to look for.” 

“All this time I thought I was subtle.” Connor sighed, and Hank laughed at that. The brunet frowned at him. “You should tell him. Jeff. About the werewolf thing. It really does explain a lot.” That took the grin straight from Hank’s face, now mirroring Connor’s frown with his own.

“Well, fuck you too.” Hank huffed. “...Any other questions?” 

“What now?” Connor asked, thinking about how those hunters last night were having their memories altered. Edited. How Collin never wanted Connor to know, and if he be made to forget, as well. Sensing the unease, Hank scooted closer. Pressed his forehead against Connor’s, and lifted his chin up to press a kiss to the others temple. 

“I am hoping… You’d be willing to keep this between us, and maybe… We can keep taking Sumo on walks together. Check out a shadowcast together, because Ben has been asking me to try it out with him and I don’t want to suffer through it alone. Join a book club together, where I totally intend on reading it but I don’t so you have to tell me smart things to say to fit in. Pick a fight with some Canadian geese. I dunno. Keep spending time together.” Hank suggested, a smile widening on his face as he spoke. Leaning upwards, Connor pressed their lips together. Lingered there, the feel of Hank’s curved lips becoming contagious. They were both smiling, and Connor’s heart swelled with happiness. With relief. With an enveloping affection that matched the hugs Hank pulled him into. 

“I bet Sumo would love helping us fight those geese. Wanna go chase some birds together?” Connor suggested, hearing the clicking of Sumo’s toenails on the apartment floor as the dog came into the room. Hank laughed.

“Thought you’d never ask.” The two kissed again, an act they would repeat many, many more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for giving this a read! And a massive shoutout for Anifanatical for the HCRBB!! It was awesome to be able to join such a wonderful project, full of so many talented individuals!!! 
> 
> This was based on [Maxkiki's](https://maxkiki.tumblr.com/) artwork, and it was fantastic working with them!! They were immensely patient with all of my questions. This was my first time trying out a fic like this, and I can only hope I did the art justice! Please go check out Maxkiki's stuff! 
> 
> Thank you again so much!!


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